'ii 


BOLANYO 


MM 

Y~C 

'    '  JPII"1 

M  :  '  I  !  fi 


BOLANYO 

A  NOVEL 

by 

OPIE  READ 

author    of 

A  Kentucky  Colonel 

TheJucklins 


etc 


CHICAGO 

Printed  for 
Way  &  Williams 

MDCCCXCVII 


COPYRIGHT,    1897,    BY   WAY   4   WILLIAMS. 
THE  COVER   DESIGNED    BY  MR.   MAXFIKLD    PARRISH. 
DECORATIONS   BY    MR.    CHARLES   FRANCIS   BROWNE. 


,        | 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

I.  ON   THE   RIVER,            -           ....  j 

II.  IN   THE    AIR, 13 

III.  THE   BLACK    GIANT,  2O 

IV.  THE   SENATOR,      -           -           -           -           -  -           28 

V.  A    MOMENT    OF    FORGIVENESS,  -       36 

VI.  INTRODUCED    TO   MRS.    ESTELL,  50 

VII.  THE    NOTORIOUS    PETERS,          -  -        66 

VIII.  THE   STATE    TREASURER,      -  82 

ix.  PUBLIC  ENTERTAINERS,  99 

X.  MR.    PETTICORD,            -                                                 -  117 

XI.  THE   CHARM    OF    AN    OLD   TOWN,       -            -  -131 

XII.  A  MATTER    OF    BUSINESS,                 -  154 

XIII.  THE   PLACE   OF   THE   GOBLINS,                        -  -      164 

XIV.  OLD   JOE   VARK,                                                    •»           -  172 
XV.  OLD   AUNT   PATSEY,           -  -      187 

XVI.  THE    PLAY,            -                                                              -  203 

XVII.  A   SLOW    STEP   ON   THE   STAIRS,          ...     2Ig 

XVIII.  TO   MEET   THE    MANAGER,                ...  226 

XIX.  BURN    THE   JUNIPER,         -  233 

XX.  GLEANING    THE   FIELD,         -  24! 

XXI.  THE   WORK   OF   THE   SCOUNDREL,     -  -     251 

XXII.  IN    THE   THICKET,         .....  258 

XXIII.  THE    RINGING   OF   THE   BELL,  -     269 

XXIV.  MAGNOLIA    LAND,         ...                        -  2go 
XXV.  DOWN    A    DARK   ALLEY,              •  -           -           -  -     291 

XXVI.  CONCLUSION — IN    THE   GARDEN,              -           -  300 


BOLANYO 


CHAPTER  I. 


ON    THE    RIVER. 

ON  the  night  ot  the  26th  ol  April 
our  company  closed   an  engage 
ment  at  the  St.  Charles  Theater 
in  New  Orleans;    and  before  the 
clocks  began  to  strike  the  hour  oi  twelve, 
our  bags  and  baggage  had  been  tumbled  on 
board  a  steamboat    headed  for  St.    Louis. 
The   prospects  oi   the    National  Dramatic 


;  ;'    ,      tiOLANYO. 

Company  had  been  bright;  competent  crit 
ics  had  pronounced  our  new  play  a  work  of 
true  and  sympathetic  art,  before  production, 
but  had  slashed  at  our  tender  vitals  when 
the  piece  had  passed  from  rehearsal  to  pre 
sentation.  The  bad  beginning  in  the  East 
had  not  truthfully  foretold  a  good  ending 
in  the  South.  The  people  had  failed  to 
sympathize  with  our  ' '  Work  of  Sympathetic 
Art."  Hope  had  leaped  from  town  to 
town;  was  always  sure  to  fall,  but  always 
quick  to  rise  again;  and,  now,  three  nights 
in  St.  Louis  would  close  the  season,  and 
doubtless  end  the  career  of  the  National 
Dramatic  Company.  The  captain  of  the 
Red  Fox,  a  dingy,  waterlogged  and  labori 
ous  craft,  had  kindly  offered  to  let  us  come 
aboard  at  half  his  usual  rate.  He  assured 
our  manager  that  this  concession  afforded 
a  real  pleasure;  that  he  held  a  keen  interest 
in  our  profession,  having  years  ago  done  a 
clog  dance  as  a  negro  minstrel.  Necessity 
oozed  oil  upon  this  unconscious  sarcasm, 
and  with  grateful  dignity  the  captain's  offer 
was  accepted. 


ON   THE  RIVER.  3 

By  two  o'clock  we  were  creaking  and 
churning  against  the  current,  and,  alone  in 
a  begrimed  cubby-hole,  with  a  looking-glass 
shaking  against  the  frail  wall,  I  lay  down 
with  a  sigh  to  take  stock  of  myself.  Hope 
had  been  agile,  but  now  it  did  not  bound 
with  so  light  a  spring.  Could  it  be  that  I 
had  begun  to  question  my  ability  as  an 
actor?  It  was  true  that  the  critics  had  slit 
me  with  their  knives,  but  the  people  had 
frequently  applauded,  and,  after  all,  the 
people  deliver  the  verdict.  The  judge  may 
charge,  but  the  jury  pronounces.  I  knew 
then,  as  I  know  now,  that  there  must  be  a 
reserve  force  behind  all  forms  of  art;  that 
one  essential  of  artistic  expression  is  to  cre 
ate  the  belief  that  you  are  not  doing  your 
best,  that  you  are  not  under  a  strain.  And 
I  thought  that  I  had  accomplished  this,  but 
the  critics  had  said  that  my  restraint  was 
weak  and  my  passion  overwrought.  I  had 
not  come  out  as  a  star.  As  a  stock  come 
dian  I  had  been  granted  a  kindly  mention, 
and  had  accepted  the  place  of  leading  man, 


4  BOLANYO. 

but  this  had  given  offense  and  had  called 
forth  an  unjust  tirade  of  censure.  Perhaps 
I  had  assumed  a  little  too  much,  but  the 
man  who  is  not  ready  to  assume  will  never 
accomplish  anything,  and  from  a  lower  sta 
tion  must  be  content  to  contemplate  the 
success  of  those  who  were  less  delicate. 

When  morning  came  I  looked  out  upon 
the  canefields,  green  to  the  edge  of  the 
horizon.  The  breakfast  bell  rang,  but  I 
hung  back,  not  for  lack  of  appetite,  but  for 
the  reason  that  the  other  members  of  the 
company  had  ceased  to  be  companiona 
ble.  Even  a  meager  applause  can  excite, 
if  not  envy,  a  certain  degree  of  contempt; 
and  the  small  stint  of  approbation  which, 
like  a  mere  crumb,  had  fallen  to  me  could 
not  have  aroused  the  jealousy,  but  surely 
sharpened  the  sarcasms,  of  my  fellow-play 
ers.  In  a  side  remark  intended  for  me,  and 
which  struck  me  like  a  shaft,  Culpepper,  as 
vain  a  fellow  as  ever  mismumbled  an  au 
thor's  lines,  remarked  to  Miss  Hatch  that 
an  elephant  would  stretch  his  chain  to  reach 


ON  THE  RIVER.  5 

a  bonbon.  And,  stroking  as  brutish  a  pug 
as  ever  found  soft  luxury  in  a  woman's  lap, 
she  replied  that  it  was  a  pity  that  the  av 
erage  theatrical  elephant,  foisted  upon  an 
easy  manager,  could  only  rival  the  real 
beast  in  clumsiness  and  in  his  appetite  for 
sweets.  So  I  waited,  gazing  out  upon  the 
edgeless  spread  of  cane-land,  until  my  com 
panions  in  "sympathetic  art"  had  indulged 
in  the  usual  growl  over  their  morning  meal, 
and  then  I  went  out  to  breakfast.  At  the 
table  sat  one  person,  an  oldish  man  with  a 
dash  of  red  in  his  countenance.  As  I  sat 
down  he  looked  up,  and,  with  a  pleasing 
smile,  inquired  if  I  were  Mr.  Maurice  Bel- 
ford.  And  when  I  had  told  him  yes,  he 
said: 

"I  thought  so,  or  'mistrusted'  as  much, 
as  Old  Bill  Brooks  used  to  say,"  he  added, 
laughing.  "Didn't  know  old  Bill,  I  take 
it?  Used  to  travel  a  good  deal  up  and  down 
the  river,  and  was  a  great  hand  to  go  to  a 
show.  And  he'd  always  set  'em  through. 
No,  sir,  he  wouldn't  leave  you.  And  this 


6  BOLANYO. 

puts  me  in  mind  that  I  saw  you  play  the 
other  night.  You  caught  me,  I  tell  you. 
That  character  of  Tobe  Wilson,  the  gam 
bler,  was  about  as  true  a  thing  as  I  ever 
saw." 

"I  am  much  pleased  to  hear  you  say  so," 
I  replied,  warming  toward  him.  "But  the 
critics  said  it  was  overdone  and  unreal,"  I 
added. 

"The  critics  said  so;  who  are  they?" 

"The  newspaper  representatives  who 
come  to  the  theater  to  find  fault,"  I  an 
swered. 

"Oh,  that's  it,  eh?  I  didn't  see  what 
any  of  'em  said,  and  it  wouldn't  make  any 
difference  if  I  had.  I've  been  a  pilot  on 
this  river  mighty  nigh  ever  since  I  was  a 
boy,  and  if  I  don't  know  what  a  real  gam 
bler  is,  I'd  like  for  some  man  to  point  one 
out  to  me." 

"I  am  really  delighted  to  meet  you,  for 
surely  your  opinion  is  worth  a  great  deal." 

"Don't  know  about  that,"  he  replied, 
"but  I  know  what  a  gambler  is.  Why,  I 


ON  THE  RIVER.  7 

set  all  the  way  through  your  show.  Fellow 
wanted  me  to  go  out  with  him,  but  I 
wouldn't.  And  right  by  me  set  Senator 
Giles  Talcom,  of  Mississippi.  I  live  in  Bo- 
lanyo,  his  town.  It's  improved  mightily  in 
the  last  twenty-five  years.  Got  a  new  city 
hall,  and  some  Dutchmen  from  the  north 
are  talking  about  starting  a  brewery.  Now, 
Talcom  is  a  smart  man  and  he  liked  your 
show;  said  he  was  sorry  you  are  to  skip 
Bolanyo  on  your  way  up  the  river.  As 
soon  as  I  git  a  bite  to  eat  I'm  going  up  to 
take  the  wheel.  Wouldn't  you  like  to  sit 
in  the  pilot  house?" 

Glad  to  accept  the  invitation  of  one  who 
had  the  insight  to  recognize  an  artistic  de 
lineation  of  character,  and  the  graciousness 
to  declare  it,  I  went  with  him  to  the  pilot 
house.  He  took  the  wheel  from  a  man 
who,  I  thought,  did  not  look  upon  me 
kindly,  and  continued  to  talk,  while  with 
an  intentness  that  traced  a  frown  upon  his 
brow  he  estimated  the  strength  of  the  cur 
rent,  or  the  depth  of  the  water  on  a  shoal. 


8  BOLANYO. 

The  river  was  low;  the  winter  had  been 
comparatively  dry;  the  early  spring  thaw 
had  spent  its  force,  and  there  was  as  yet  no 
premonitory  swell  of  the  great  summer  rise. 
The  morning  was  sunless  and  soft,  and  far 
away  a  dragon-shaped  mist  lay  low  upon 
the  land,  a  giant's  nightmare,  fading  in  the 
pale  light  of  a  reluctant  day. 

"The  old  river's  dead,"  said  the  pilot, 
with  the  reverberations  of  a  knell  in  the 
tone  of  his  voice.  "Look  at  that  thing 
fluttering  along  over  there,  where  the  Lee 
and  the  Natchez  used  to  plow.  No,  sir, 
the  old  Mississippi  ain't  much  better  than  a 
sewer  now.  But-  she  was  a  roarer  back 
yonder  in  my  time,  I  tell  you.  Ah,  Lord, 
some  great  men  have  piloted  palaces  along 
here." 

"Whom  do  you  regard  as  the  greatest?" 
I  inquired,  expecting  to  hear  him  pronounce 
a  name  well  known  to  the  stage  and  to 
literature. 

"Well,  of  course  there's  a  difference  of 
opinion  among  them  that  don't  know,  but 


ON  THE  RIVER.  9 

with  them  that  do  know  there  never  was  a 
pilot  that  could  hold  a  candle  to  old  Lige 
Patton." 

"I  don't  believe  I  ever  heard  of  him,"  I 
replied. 

"Hah!"  He  turned  his  eyes  upon  me, 
with  the  up-river  search  still  strong  in  his 
gaze,  but  as  with  a  snatch  he  jerked  them 
away  and  threw  them  upon  a  split  in  the 
current  far  ahead.  "That  might  be,"  he 
assented,  slowly  turning  his  wheel.  ' '  I  can 
jump  off  here  most  anywhere  and  find  you 
a  man  that  never  heard  of  Julius  Caesar." 

I  preferred  to  remain  silent  under  this  re 
buke,  and  he  did  not  speak  again  until  we 
had  sheered  off  to  the  left  of  the  split  in  the 
current,  a  snag,  and  then  he  said: 

' '  Lige  didn't  weigh  more  than  a  hundred 
and  sixty  pounds  at  his  best,  and  the  boys 
used  to  say  there  wan't  no  meat  on  him  at 
all,  nothing  but  nerve.  Game!"  He  cleared 
his  throat,  gave  me  a  mere  glance  and  con 
tinued:  "It  was  said  that  a  panther  once 
met  him  in  the  woods,  and  gave  vent  to  a 


io  BOLANYO. 

most  unearthly  squall,  which  meant,  'excuse 
me,  Mr.  Patton, '  and  took  to  his  heels  and 
never  was  heard  of  in  that  section  after 
that — the  panther  wan't — although  he  had 
been  mighty  popular  among  the  pigs  and 
sheep  of  that  neighborhood.  But  Lige 
never  killed  many  men.  Never  killed  except 
when  he  was  overpersuaded.  Gave  up  a 
good  position  once  and  went  all  the  way  to 
Jackson  to  call  the  governor  of  Mississippi 
a  liar.  And  what  was  that  for?  Why, 
the  governor  issued  a  thanksgiving  procla 
mation  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  river  had 
been  low  for  three  months,  making  it  pretty 
tough  work  for  the  pilots;  and  Lige,  he  de 
clared  that  a  governor  who  said  that  the 
people  ought  to  be  thankful  was  a  liar. 
And  I've  got  a  little  more  religion  now  than 
I  had  at  that  time,  but  blamed  if  I  don't 
still  think  he  was  right.  I  spoke  a  while 
ago  of  Senator  Talcom,  who  lives  in  my 
town.  Well,  sir,  Lige  give  Talcom  his 
start  in  the  world.  It  was  this  way:  Lige 
wan't  altogether  a  lamb  when  he  was  drink- 


ON  THE  RIVER.  n 

ing;  he  sorter  looked  for  a  fight,  but,  un 
derstand,  he  didn't  want  to  kill  anybody, 
unless  07'rrpersuaded.  Talcom  was  a  young 
fellow,  at  that  time,  and  had  just  come  to 
town.  And,  somehow,  he  got  in  Lige's 
way,  and  they  fought.  And  if  there  ever 
was  a  man  that  had  more  wire  than  Lige, 
it  was  Talcom.  It  must  have  been  some 
sort  of  an  accident,  but,  somehow,  he  got 
the  upper  hand  of  Lige,  got  him  down,  got 
out  his  knife,  and  was  about  to  cut  his 
throat,  when  Lige  said:  'Young  fellow, 
you  may  put  out  my  light  as  soon  as  you 
please,  for  you  can  do  it,  but  there's  one 
thing,  and  one  thing  only,  that  I'd  like  to 
live  for,  and  that  is  to  see  what  you  are 
going  to  make  of  yourself. '  Blamed  if  this 
didn't  tickle  Talcom,  and  he  got  up  and 
flung  his  knife  away.  And,  now  to  the 
point,  sir;  Lige  went  all  around  and  told  it 
that  Talcom  whipped  him,  and  that  was 
the  making  of  Talcom.  Now  look  at  him 
—been  in  the  State  Senate  year  after  year. 
Yes,  sir,"  he  added,  "I  reckon  that  in  one 


12  BO  LAN 'YO. 

way  and  another  Lige  Patton  developed 
more  men  than  anybody  that  ever  struck 
this  country." 


CHAPTER  II. 

IN   THE   AIR. 

A  the  noon  hour  my  friend  was  re 
lieved,  and  together  we  went  down 
to  dinner.      Miss  Hatch  and  Cul- 
pepper  fell  to  whispering  as  soon 
as  I  sat  down,  opposite  them.     I  knew  that 
I  was  under  a  spiteful  discussion,  but,  with 
the  appearance  of  paying  no  heed  to  them, 
I  remarked  to  the  pilot,  who  sat  beside  me: 
"You  have  often  noticed,  I  suppose,  that 
human  nature  by  turns  partakes  of  the  na 
ture  of  all  other  animals,  particularly  of  the 
black  cat  and  the  yellow  dog?" 

"I  don't  know  that  I  get  you,  exactly, 
but  go  ahead,"  he  replied. 

This  afforded  Miss  Hatch  and  Culpepper 
an  opportunity  to  titter.      I  did  not  look  at 
them,  but  addressed  myself  to  the  pilot. 
13 


14  BOLANYO. 

'  *  I  confess  that  my  meaning  might  have 
been  clearer,  but  behind  it  lies  a  sufficient 
cause  for  its  utterance. " 

He  put  down  his  knife  and  looked  at  me 
helplessly,  shook  his  head  as  if  puzzled, 
and  fell  to  eating  with  this  not  very  com 
forting  observation: 

"Jerk  me  out  of  bed  any  time  of  night, 
along  here,  and  I  can  tell  you  where  I  am, 
and  I  am  pretty  good  at  foreseeing  a  change 
in  the  channel,  but  once  in  a  while  I  strike 
a  thing  that  I  can't  rigger  out,  and  I  reckon 
you've  just  handed  me  one." 

Miss  Hatch  was  now  so  occupied  with 
feeding  her  dog  that  she  had  no  time  to 
titter  at  my  discomfiture,  but  I  caught  sight 
of  Culpepper's  hateful  and  invidious  smile. 

The  meal  was  finished  in  silence,  and  I 
thought  that  the  pilot  had  forgotten  my 
clouded  remark,  but  when  he  had  resumed 
his  place  at  the  wheel,  he  cut  his  sharp  old 
eye  at  me  and  said: 

"But  there  are  a  good  many  things  I  can 
see,  and  one  of  them  is,  that  you  and  them 


IN  THE  AIR.  15 

other  show  folks  don't  get  along  together 
very  well. " 

"It's  their  fault,"  I  replied. 

"Of  course,"  he  rejoined,  giving  me  a 
mere  glimpse  of  his  old  eye,  and  this  time 
it  was  not  merely  shrewd — it  was  rascally. 

"I  have  done  my  best  to  merit  their 
friendship,"  I  said,  somewhat  sharply. 
"But  they  spurn  me,  they  insinuate  that  I 
am  an  elephant  on  the  manager's  hands, 
when  you  yourself  have  been  kind  enough 
to  tell  me  that  my  part  of  the  performance 
was—" 

"Good,  first-rate,"  he  broke  in.  "But 
in  the  play  you  almost  have  a  set  of  love 
jimjams  on  account  of  that  woman,  and 
let  her  reform  you,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing.  It  beats  me,"  he  added,  shaking 
his  head.  "I  don't  see  how  a  man  can 
love  and  cavort  with  a  woman  one  minute, 
and  hate  her  the  next.  I  pass,  when  it 
comes  to  that." 

"The  stage  is  a  strange  world,"  I  re 
plied. 


16  BOLANYO. 

''Yes,  seems  so.  Hard  way  to  earn 
money,  hugging  someone  you  don't  like. 
Why,  I  know  a  woman  I  wouldn't  hug  for  a 
thousand  dollars.  You  appear  to  be  a  man 
of  fair  average  sense.  Why  don't  you  go 
into  some  other  business — why  don't  you  go 
to  work?" 

"Work!"  I  cried,  and  I  laughed  so  loud 
that  a  half  naked  boy  on  the  shore  tossed 
up  his  hat  and  shouted  a  salute  to  my  mer 
riment. 

With  his  face  hard  set,  and  with  his  eyes 
sweeping  the  river,  he  waited  for  my  atten 
tion,  and  then  he  said:  "Yes,  work.  Of 
course  it's  all  right  for  idle  and  shiftless  fel 
lows  to  go  around  this  way,  but  it  strikes 
me — of  course  I  don't  know — but  it  strikes 
me  that  if  you  were  to  get  down  to  it,  you 
might  make  something  of  yourself.  It 
would  be  all  right  if  you  could  make  a  great 
actor  out  of  yourself,  for  then  it  would  be 
worth  your  while,  but  always  to  be  an  under 
dog  in  the  fight — " 

"You  are  not  a  flatterer,"  I  broke  in. 


IN  THE  AIR.  17 

"Well,  I  don't  flatter  men  very  much. 
Flattery,  like  feathers  and  ribbons,  was  in 
tended  for  women;  but  even  they  are  get 
ting  too  much  sense  to  swallow  it.  Come 
to  think  about  it,  they  don't  look  for  it 
as  much  as  men  do. " 

We  had  turned  a  bend,  and  the  pilot, 
pointing,  directed  my  eye  toward  a  town. 
"There's  old  Bolanyo, "  he  said.  "One  of 
the  best  towns  on  the  river,  one  way  and 
another.  I  live  there  when  I'm  at  home. 
And  that's  where  Senator  Talcom  lives,  and 
that's  where  he  had  his  fight  with  Lige  Pat- 
ton.  I'm  going  to  hop  off  there  to  see  my 
folks.  House  so  plain  up  there  is  the  new 
city  hall — must  have  cost  forty-five  thou 
sand.  Can't  see  Talcom's  house;  it's  off  in 
the  far  edge  of  the  town.  It's  almost  a 
farm,  and  I  reckon  he's  got  the  finest  mag 
nolia  garden  in  this  whole  section.  Old 
Bowie,  father  of  the  Bowie  knife,  fought  a 
duel  right  over  yonder.  Got  his  man. 
Stevens  is  coming  up  to  relieve  me  now  in 
a  minute.  Coming  now,  I  believe.  Just 


1 8  BOLANYO. 

step  outside,"  he  added,  as  his  assistant  ap 
peared  at  the  door,  ''and  I'll  show  you  the 
places  of  interest,  and  then  trot  down  in 
time  to  hop  off." 

We  stood  near  the  pilot  house,  and,  con 
tinuing  to  talk,  he  pointed  out,  with  the 
finger  of  local  pride,  a  number  of  build 
ings  which  he  believed  would  be  of  interest 
to  me,  but  his  words  fell  without  meaning. 
A  lulling  essence  was  exhaled  by  the  town. 
A  spirit  of  rest  and  contentment  lay  upon 
her  lazy  wharf.  I  heard  the  languid  song 
of  the  indolent  ''white  trash,"  and  the 
happy-go-lucky  haw-haw  of  the  trifling 
negro.  Through  the  lattice  of  a  thin  cloud 
the  sun  shot  a  glance,  and  the  gilded  plow 
on  the  courthouse  dome  stood  at  the  end 
of  a  furrow  of  fire. 

"Well,  got  to  leave  you." 

He  seized  my  hand,  and  at  that  moment 
I  thought  that  I  was  jerked  off  my  feet,  high 
in  the  air,  and  then  came  a  thunder  clap  so 
loud,  so  deafening  that  my  senses  were  killed, 
conscious  only  that  my  body  was  a  dead 


IN  THE  AIR.  ig 

weight  and  that  my  mind  had  been  shat 
tered  and  blown  away.  It  seemed  that  I 
was  propelled  through  a  long  and  vague  in 
terval  of  time,  and  then  a  plunge  and  a 
chill,  and  my  senses  fluttered  with  painful 
life.  The  sharp  knowledge  of  an  awful 
calamity  shot  through  me — the  boat  had 
exploded  her  boilers  and  I  had  been  blown 
into  the  river. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    BLACK    GIANT. 

I  REMEMBER  to  have  struggled,  and 
to  have  been  tumbled  over  and  over 
by  the  current.  I  might  have  caught 
at  a  straw,  but  no  array  of  sins  came 
up  for  review,  though  there  were  enough  of 
them  scattered  between  my  cradle  bed  and 
the  bed  of  this  engulfing  river.  But  I 
thought  of  many  a  foolish  thing,  a  pair  of 
red-top  boots,  a  whistle  made  of  willow,  a 
'coon  skin  tacked  against  the  wall  of  a  ne 
gro's  cabin;  but  I  do  not  remember  being 
taken  out  of  the  water,  so  I  must  have  en 
dured  all  the  popular  agonies  of  drowning. 
I  have  a  faint  recollection  of  being  borne 
along  at  full  length,  of  seeing  lights  and  of 
hearing  voices.  Sometimes  the  voices  were 
close  and  loud  in  my  ears,  and  again  they 

20 


THE  BLACK  GIANT.  21 

were  far  away.  Struggling  reason  sank 
once  more,  an  obliterating  darkness  fell; 
and  when,  after  a  long  time,  the  light  re 
turned,  I  realized  that  I  was  in  a  room, 
lying  on  a  bed.  My  nostrils  were  filled 
with  the  pungent  scent  of  liniments.  A 
tight  bandage  was  about  my  head;  and  a 
heavy  sense  of  soreness  told  me  that  my 
right  side  was  crushed.  I  thought  to  say 
something,  but  the  pungent  odor  grew 
stronger  in  my  nostrils,  and  I  sank  to  sleep. 
When  I  awoke  again  the  day  was  broad. 
And  never  before  had  I  realized  what  broad 
day  meant;  it  was  the  opposite  of  the  sharp 
and  narrow  lights  that  had  shot  out  of 
the  thick  darkness  enshrouding  my  mind. 
Everything  was  clear  to  me  now.  The  ex 
plosion  had  occurred  at  the  moment  when 
the  pilot  took  my  hand.  But  was  I  now 
on  board  another  steamer?  No,  my  apart 
ment  was  too  spacious  and  too  stately. 
There  were  pictures  on  the  walls,  and  on  the 
mantel  stood  a  marble  statuette — the  Diver. 
Undoubtedly  I  had  been  brought  into  a  pri- 


22  BOLANYO. 

vate  house,  for  no  hospital  would  offer  such 
luxury  to  a  stranger.  I  heard  footsteps  and 
voices.  The  door  was  carefully  opened  and 
two  men  entered  the  room.  Upon  seeing 
my  eyes  turned  toward  them  they  advanced 
cheerfully.  I  tried  to  say  good  morning, 
but  the  words  stuck  in  my  throat.  One  of 
the  men  placed  his  fingers  on  my  wrist  and 
asked  me  how  I  felt.  This  time  my  effort 
at  speech  was  more  of  a  success,  and  I 
managed  to  tell  him  that  I  was  beginning 
to  feel  very  well,  that  I  was  thankful  for 
the  light,  and  that  I  hoped  he  would  not 
administer  any  more  of  that  stifling  liniment. 

"The  ether,"  he  said,  speaking  to  his 
companion;  and  then  to  me  he  added, 
"No,  you  won't  need  any  more  of  that. 
Well,"  he  continued,  turning  again  to  his 
companion,  ' '  he's  doing  first  rate.  I'll  be 
around  again  about  eleven  o'clock." 

A  sudden  alarm  came  upon  me.  "Let 
me  ask  you  a  question,"  I  cried  as  he  turned 
to  leave.  ' '  Haven't  you  cut  off  one  of  my 
legs?" 


THE  BLACK  GIANT.  23 

« 'No,  sir-ree, "  he  good-humoredly  laughed. 

4 'But  I  want  you  to  be  sure  about  it,"  I 
persisted.  "Just  this  minute  I  tried  to 
find  them  both  but  couldn't." 

"Here,  doctor,"  said  the  other  man, 
"show  him  that  his  legs  are  all  right. 
Don't  leave  him  in  this  fix." 

"Yes,  of  course,"  said  the  doctor,  and 
lifting  the  cover  he  proved  that  I  had  not 
been  robbed  by  the  surgeon's  knife.  ' '  Got 
both  arms,  too,  you  see." 

4 'But  I'm  pretty  badly  hurt." 

"Well,  the  blow-up  didn't  do  you  any 
particular  good,  but  you  are  coming  along 
all  right.  All  we've  got  to  guard  against 
now  is  a  rise  in  temperature,  and  there'll 
be  no  danger  of  that  if  you  keep  quiet." 

' '  But  the  other  members  of  the  company. 
Tell  me  about  them." 

"They're  all  right — the  most  of  them. 
You  shall  have  all  the  details  in  due  time, 
but  now  you  must  keep  quiet." 

They  went  out,  closing  the  door  softly, 
and  I  dozed  off  to  sleep;  and  when  I  awoke 


24  BOLANYO. 

I  was  thankful  to  find  that  the  day  was  still 
broad.  I  was  conscious  that  someone  was 
in  the  room,  and,  slightly  turning,  I  beheld 
an  enormous  negro,  standing  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor,  looking  at  me. 

"You  have  had  a  good  sleep,  Sir,"  he 
said,  "and  I  have  waited  for  you  to  awake 
so  that  I  could  give  you  some  refreshment." 

He  spoke  with  a  precision  that  was  al 
most  painful,  as  if  he  were  translating  a 
sentence  from  a  dead  language,  and  my 
look  must  have  betrayed  my  astonishment, 
for  his  thick  lips  parted  in  a  smile,  broad, 
but  sedate.  He  appeared  to  be  pleased  at 
my  surprise,  and,  smiling  again,  he  bowed 
and  quitted  the  room,  but  soon  returned 
with  a  tray  which  he  placed  on  a  chair  near 
the  bed. 

* '  Here  is  something  which  the  physician 
has  pronounced  good  for  you  to  eat,"  he 
said,  '  <  but  don't  try  to  sit  up.  Here,  let 
me  get  my  arm  under  you,  this  way.  Now 
we  have  it." 

"Take  it  away,  I'm  not  hungry,"  I  said, 


THE  BLACK  GIANT.  25 

after  finding  the  position  too  painful  to  en 
dure.  He  eased  me  down,  put  the  chair 
back  and  stood  looking  at  me. 

"  Won't  you  sit  down?" 

"No,  I  thank  you,  Sir." 

"But  it  makes  me  tired  to  see  you 
stand." 

"Then,  Sir,  I  will  sit  down."  He  brought 
another  chair,  and,  seating  himself,  he  turned 
his  searching  eyes  upon  me.  He  was  so 
enormous  and  he  towered  so,  even  after  sit 
ting  down,  that  he  inspired  a  feeling  of 
creepy  dread,  his  eyes  so  black  and  his 
smile  so  grave;  and  I  was  sure  that  in  his 
presence  the  day  could  not  long  continue  to 
be  broad;  indeed,  I  could  see  that  the  light 
at  the  window  was  slowly  fading. 

"I  asked  them  if  I  might  come  and  nurse 
you, "  he  said.  ' '  There  were  other  stricken 
ones  that  I  might  have  nursed,  but  I  heard 
that  you  were  an  actor,  and  then  I  knew 
where  my  duty  lay." 

"I  am  thankful  for  your  partiality  to  my 
profession,  at  any  rate,"  I  replied. 


26  BOLANYO. 

He  smiled,  and  his  great  teeth  gleamed 
in  the  fading  light.  ' '  I  was  not  influenced 
by  the  partiality  of  the  flesh,  but  by  the 
duty  laid  upon  the  spirit.  Most  anyone 
could  nurse  your  body,  but  I  begged  the 
privilege  of  nursing  your  soul  as  well." 

"Ah,  and  you  think  an  actor's  soul  is  in 
especial  need  of  nursing?" 

' '  With  your  permission  we  will  leave  that 
for  some  future  converse.  I  have  been  en 
joined  not  to  engage  you  in  a  talk  that 
might  bring  weariness  upon  you.  For  a 
few  nights  to  come  there  may  be  danger, 
and  until  that  time  is — is — shall  have  been 
passed,  I  will  sit  with  you." 

4 'But  who  are  you?"  I  inquired. 

' '  I  am  the  humblest  servant  of  the  church 
wherein  I  preach  the  gospel  that  sinners 
may  be  brought  to  repentance;  and  my 
name  is  Washington  Smith.  But  I  must 
talk  no  more,  and  you  must  keep  quiet." 

"But  where  am  I?     Tell  me  that." 

"You  are  in  good  hands,  and  the  Lord 
and  his  servants  are  watching  over  you. 


THE  BLACK  GIANT.  27 

But  I  must  request  you  not  to  speak  again 
to-night." 

He  took  up  the  tray  and  went  out,  and 
when  he  returned  he  sat  down,  though  not 
upon  a  chair,  but  upon  the  floor,  with  his 
back  against  the  wall. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    SENATOR. 

WHENEVER    I    awoke    in    the 
course  of  that  long  and  dreary 
night,  it  was  to  find  the  black 
giant  standing  near  the  bedside. 
Once  his  hand,  like  the  wing  of  a  buzzard, 
passed  over  me,  and  I  muttered  a  complaint. 
"I  just  wanted  to  determine  whether  or  not 
you  had  a  fever,  Sir,"  he  said.      "  You  were 
talking  in  your  sleep,  and  I  thought  it  best 
to  investigate  the  state  of  your  temperature. 
But  you  are  all  right. " 

I  was  half  asleep  and  doubtless  could  not 
at  morning  have  remembered  a  strain  of 
music  or  a  bit  of  pleasantry,  but  at  daylight 
his  stilted  words  were  clear  in  my  mind.  I 
looked  about  for  him  but  he  was  gone. 
Breakfast  was  brought  in  by  a  negress,  tall 
28 


THE  SENATOR.  29 

enough  to  be  his  wife.  I  asked  her  if  she 
were,  and,  showing  me  her  teeth,  she  as 
sured  me  that  she  was  an  old  maid;  that 
no  man,  even  if  one  of  the  best  preachers 
in  the  Lord's  church,  should  be  her  master. 
She  said  that  she  had  married  one  man  on 
trial,  but  that,  after  living  with  her  a  year 
or  more,  he  had  robbed  her  of  a  silver  piece 
and  run  away;  and  now  she  was  going  to 
teach  her  daughter  never  to  take  a  man 
except  on  suspicion,  and  to  be  mighty  care 
ful  even  then.  The  amusement  that  she 
offered  assisted  me  to  eat.  She  talked  in 
cessantly  during  the  time,  and  as  she  took 
up  the  tray  to  go  out,  the  doctor  and  the 
gentleman  who  had  advised  him  to  prove 
to  me  that  I  was  still  possessed  of  both  legs 
came  into  the  room. 

"Oh,  he's  all  right,"  said  the  woman. 
"Yas,  sah,  an'  you  got  ter  take  'em  wid 
'spicion  even  if  da  is  hurt." 

The  doctor  pronounced  me  much  im 
proved,  cut  short  his  visit,  and  left  me  with 
his  friend,  at  whom  I  now  looked  with  con- 


30  BOLANYO. 

siderable  interest.  He  was  of  a  manly 
build,  dressed  in  a  black  "Prince  Albert" 
coat,  buttoned  below,  but  opened  out  wide 
at  the  breast.  The  ends  of  his  grayish 
mustache  were  slightly  twisted,  and  on  his 
chin  was  a  "dab"  of  whiskers.  He  ap 
peared  to  be  proud  of  his  bearing,  and  proud 
of  the  belief  that  no  one  could  discover  the 
seat  of  his  pride.  He  moved  about  rather 
gracefully,  carrying  a  soft  hat  in  his  hand, 
as  if  he  were  ready  to  salute  a  gentleman 
or  bow  profoundly  to  a  lady. 

'  *  Pardon  me,  Sir, "  I  began,  and  he  turned 
toward  me  with  a  slight  bow  and  with  a 
slow  motion  made  with  his  hat,  « '  but  will 
you  tell  me  who  is  the  master  of  this  house?" 

"I  am,"  he  answered,  with  a  smile. 

"But  who  are  you,  your  name,  please?" 

"Has  no  one  told  you?  Hah,  don't  you 
know  yet?"  His  voice  conveyed  a  sense  of 
injury  that  so  important  a  preliminary  had 
been  overlooked. 

"No  one  has  told  me." 


THE  SENATOR.  31 

"Then,  Sir,  I  have  the  pleasure  of  intro 
ducing  myself.  I  am  Giles  Talcom." 

"Oh,  Senator  Talcom." 

His  eyes  snapped,  he  touched  his  "dab" 
of  beard,  and  said: 

" At  your  service,  Sir." 

We  shook  hands,  and  he  sat  down  "I 
have  heard  of  you,  Senator." 

"Yes,  I  have  introduced  into  the  Missis 
sippi  Senate  a  great  many  reformatory  meas 
ures,  some  of  which  have  been  adopted  by 
our  sister  States." 

"And  you  are  the  man  who  whipped 
Lige  Patton." 

"What!"  he  cried,  snapping  his  eyes  at 
me.  "Hah,  you  got  that  nonsense  from 
old  Zack  Mason,  the  pilot.  Confound  his 
old  hide,  he  never  will  forget  that.  I  was 
quite  a  young  man  in  those  days,  Sir.  I 
came  here  from  Virginia,  almost  straight 
from  the  University,  and  was,  if  my  exam 
ination  should  prove  satisfactory,  to  take 
charge  of  a  young  ladies'  school.  But  on 
the  day  before  the  examination  took  place 


32  BOLANYO. 

Mr.  Patton  took  it  into  his  head  to  walk 
over  me.  He  didn't,  and,  sir,  without 
any  examination  at  all,  the  good  people 
gave  me  the  male  academy.  The  trustees 
(most  of  them  had  been  river  men,  you  un 
derstand)  said  that  I  was  too  valuable  a 
piece  of  timber  to  waste  on  a  female  sem 
inary.  They  said  it  was  too  much  like 
chasing  butterflies  with  a  bloodhound.  I 
didn't  keep  the  school  long;  I  came  into 
my  inheritance,  went  into  politics,  and  here 
I  am." 

'  *  Senator,  I  am  under  lasting  obligations 
to  you  for — " 

"Not  at  all,  Sir,  not  at  all.  I  spent  a 
very  pleasant  evening  with  you  at  the  St. 
Charles  Theatre  in  New  Orleans,  and  I  said 
then,  as  I  always  do  when  a  man  has  en 
tertained  me,  I  hope  to  be  able  to  do  some 
thing  for  him.  And,  Sir,  while  the  opportu 
nity  was  brought  about  by  a  sad  misfortune, 
yet — yet  I  am  really  gratified  at  being  the 
instrument,  you  understand,  of  giving  you 
shelter  and  attention  at  this  sad  hour." 


THE  SENATOR.  33 

"How  long  have  I  been  here?" 
4 'Three  days.     But  don't  let  that  worry 
you.     You  are  to  remain  until  you  feel  per 
fectly  able  to  proceed  on  your  way." 
"Were  many  people  killed?" 
"Quite  a  number.     Two  were  found  yes 
terday  at  the  island   twenty  miles  below. 
A  large  number  were    hurt,   but    they   are 
being  cared  for.     Our  city  is  making  great 
strides,  but  we  have  no  hospital  as  yet,  so 
our  citizens  threw  open  their  doors  to  re 
ceive  the  wounded.      And  the  dead  have 
been  cared  for." 

"How  did  our  company  fare?" 
"Sir,  I  appreciate  your  modesty  and  un 
selfishness  in  not  asking  about  your  brethren 
first  of  all.  The  manager  was  killed,  but 
the  others  escaped  with  slight  injuries.  Mr. 
Culpepper  called  to  see  you,  but  you  were 
asleep  at  the  time.  And  the  old  pilot,  who 
escaped  with  a  few  bruises,  has  sent  you 
his  congratulations.  He  says  that  united 
he  and  you  stood,  and  that  divided  you 
both  fell." 

3 


34  BOLANYO. 

'  4  There  is  something  else  I  should  like  to 
ask,  about  the  big  negro  who  stays  here  at 
night?" 

"Oh,  Washington  Smith.  But  don't 
make  a  mistake  and  call  him  Wash.  He 
is  a  humble  servant  of  the  church,  but  a 
dignified  citizen  of  the  Republic.  Strange 
fellow.  A  number  of  years  ago  he  presented 
a  singular  petition  to  the  city  council,  beg 
ging  for  an  education,  and  agreeing  to  work 
for  the  corporation  in  return  for  the  money 
expended  in  his  behalf.  Most  of  the  coun- 
cilmen  condemned  the  petition  as  a  piece 
of  impudence,  but  I  was  a  member  at  the 
time,  and  I  looked  on  it  with  favor,  Sir. 
My  enemies  said  that  I  was  bidding  for  the 
negro  vote.  I  raised  money  enough  to  send 
Washington  to  the  Fisk  University,  and  I 
can  say  with  truth  that  I  have  never  re 
gretted  the  step,  for  he  has  held  before  me 
a  constant  example  of  gratitude.  But  I 
have  talked  to  you  long  enough,"  he  added, 
arising.  ' '  I  don't  want  to  tire  you  out — 
I  want  to  see  you  on  your  feet  again.  And 


THE  SENATOR.  35 

it  won't  be  long.  As  soon  as  you  are  able 
to  sit  up  we'll  put  you  into  a  rocking  chair, 
draw  you  into  the  parlor  and  Mrs.  Estell 
will  read  to  you." 

He  gave  me  a  bow,  accompanying  the 
act  with  a  slow  and  graceful  sweep  of  his 
hat,  and  withdrew,  leaving  me  to  muse  over 
the  prospect  of  being  compelled  to  submit 
to  a  torture  administered  by  a  Mrs.  Estell. 
I  could  put  up  with  the  reading  of  a  girl  in 
her  first  poetic  era,  but  I  shuddered  at  the 
thought  of  a  woman  in  her  second  senti 
mental  childhood. 


CHAPTER  V.  ! 

A   MOMENT   OF   FORGIVENESS. 

CULPEPPER   called  in  the   after 
noon,  and  when  he  saw  me  lying 
there  with  my  head  tied  up,   he 
was  brusk  for  a  moment  to  cover 
the  whimper  in  his  voice.      With  genuine 
affection  he  took  my  hand,  and  all  the  en 
mity  I  had  held  against  him  was  gone  in  a 
moment.     He  said  that  the  boilers  of  the 
Red  Fox  had  blown  off  the  end  of  our  sea 
son,  and  had  shattered  the  greatest  dramatic 
combination  that  ever  looked  with  horror 
at  a  piece  of  paper  in  the  hand  of  a  village 
sheriff. 

' '  And  the  poor  old  elephant  is  flat  on  his 
back,"  I  said. 

1 '  Now,  here,  old  chap,  none  of  that.     It 
was  only  a  guy.     Why,  we  all  liked  you, 
36 


A  MOMENT  OF  FORGIVENESS.  37 

but  hang  it  all,  Maurice,  you  did  appear 
just  a  little  stuck  on  yourself,  not  on  ac 
count  of  your  acting,  but — " 

'  *  But  on  account  of  my  despair, "  I  broke 
in.  "The  nerves  of  my  failure  were  ex 
posed,  and  nothing  is  prouder  than  a  nerve. 
I  have  told  you  that  before  I  made  a  ven 
ture  I  studied  for  the  stage,  viewing  it  as 
a  classic  and  high-born  profession.  I  went 
through  the  best  schools,  and — " 

"Now,  here,  old  chap,  don't  talk  about 
schools.  They  are  only  intended  for  society 
women,  you  know.  The  main  trouble  is, 
you  didn't  begin  early  enough.  You  were 
a  dramatic  critic  and  then  thought  you'd 
study  for  the  stage." 

"But  my  work  as  an  actor  is  popular 
with  the  people,"  I  protested. 

"Yes,  some  people,  old  chap,  but  you 
mustn't  pay  much  attention  to  that.  In 
his  own  generation  a  man  is  not  really 
great  until  the  critics  have  pronounced  him 
so.  The  critics  can  gradually  bring  the 
people  around  to  an  appreciation  of  a  true 


38  BOLANYO. 

artist,  but  popularity  doesn't  compel  the  crit 
ics  to  deliver  a  favorable  verdict.  It  isn't 
with  acting  as  it  is  with  writing,  you  know. 
An  actor  is  of  the  present,  and  a  writer 
may  be  of  the  future.  Wouldn't  you  rather 
have  the  good  opinion  of  a  few  high-class 
men  and  women  than  the  enthusiastic  com 
mendation  of  the  rabble?" 

1  'Yes,  wouldn't  you?" 

4 « No,  I  wouldn't,  old  chap,  for  I  am  after 
what  money  there  is  in  it.  I  don't  expect 
to  be  an  artist,  you  know — I  don't  care  to 
be — too  much  hard  work;  too  much  restraint 
in  it." 

"Culpepper" — I  looked  at  him  earnestly, 
for  I  was  moved  by  a  spirit  of  truth — "I 
would  rather  stand  high  as  the  exponent  of 
any  art  that  I  might  choose  than  to  have 
all  the  money  you  could  heap  about  me." 

1  'Ah,  that's  where  you  are  weak,  old 
chap;  but  it's  well  enough  that  there  are 
such  men — they  give  the  other  fellows  a 
chance.  And  now,  pardon  me,  Maurice, 
but  you'll  never  be  a  great  actor." 


A  MOMENT  OF  FORGIVENESS.  39 

He  said  this  with  such  kindliness  that  I 
did  not  feel  even  the  quiver  of  a  resentment. 
In  fact,  while  left  to  commune  with  myself, 
and  under  that  strange  sharpening  of  self- 
judgment  which  illness  or  a  nervous  shock 
may  sometimes  bring  about,  I  had  seen  my 
incurable  faults  and  had  consigned  myself 
to  mediocrity. 

"Have  I  hurt  you,  old  chap?" 

"No,"  said  I,  philosopher  enough  to 
laugh,  "you  simply  agree  with  my  own 
estimate." 

"That  so?  Good.  But  I  tell  you  what 
I  believe  you  can  do,  and  do  it  down  to  the 
ground — write  for  the  stage.  You've  got  a 
good  sense  of  humor  and  a  first-rate  con 
ception  of  character;  you  are  poetic  and 
can  soon  acquire  a  knowledge  of  construc 
tion.  Want  me  to  shake  on  it  ?  Of 
course." 

We  shook  hands,  not  that  he  had  tickled 
my  vanity,  but  because  he  had  sent  back 
the  echo  which  my  secret  mind  had  shouted. 

"But,     Culpepper,    there    is    always   a 


40  J30LANYO. 

trouble  in  the  way.  I  can't  work  while 
jerked  about  the  country — I've  tried  it — 
and  just  at  present  I  can't  afford  to  stay 
long  enough  in  one  place." 

"  That's  all  right,  set  your  mind  on  it  and 
the  opportunity  will  come." 

4 'By  the  way,  I  have  a  treat  in  store. 
Hope  you'll  be  here  to  share  it  with  me.  I 
am  promised  a  reading  by  Mrs.  Estell,  when 
I  am  able  to  be  dragged  into  another  room. " 
'He  laughed.  "  Know  what  I'd  do  ?"  said 
he.  ' '  I'd  pretend  weakness  until  the  proper 
time,  and  then  I'd  take  to  my  heels.  Oh, 
by  the  way,  I've  had  your  trunk  sent  up. 
It  fell  over  on  the  sand  and  wasn't  injured. 
Say,  haven't  told  you  about  Mrs.  Hatch. 
She  wasn't  hurt — we  were  at  the  stern,  and 
you  must  have  been  over  the  boilers.  Well, 
she's  gone  on  to  Memphis  in  a  rush.  Old 
Norton  telegraphed  her.  She  sent  her  re 
gards;  said  she  was  sorry  she  hadn't  time 
to  see  you.  Newspapers  made  a  big  spread 
of  this  affair.  Biggest  send-off  we  ever  had. 
Eh?  At  first  they  had  everybody  killed." 


A  MOMENT  OF  FORGIVENESS.  41 

He  spoke  feelingly  of  our  manager,  pointed 
out  virtues  that  he  did  not  possess,  and  for 
gave  his  inability  to  pay  salaries.  "Yes, 
Sir,  Tabb  wasn't  a  bad  fellow,"  he  went 
on.  "By  the  by,  he  made  a  bet  that  he 
would  ride  home,  and  he  has  won  it.  Well, " 
he  said,  getting  up,  "I  leave  to-night. 
Wouldn't  go  without  seeing  you." 

He  held  out  his  hand  and,  taking  it,  I  told 
him  not  to  forget  the  "  Elephant." 

"Come,  old  chap,  don't  do  that,"  he  re 
plied,  assuming  a  bruskness,  and  turning 
about  to  hide  his  eyes  from  me.  "You 
know  it  was  only  a  guy.  And  haven't  I 
come  to  tell  you  that  you  can  make  a  great 
man  of  yourself?  Well,  once  more,  take 
care  of  yourself." 

Now  that  he  was  gone,  I  could  look  back 
and  see  that  Culpepper  had  always  been  a 
good  fellow.  And  with  a  sort  of  pitying 
contempt  I  acknowledged  that  I  had  set 
myself  up  as  a  target  for  ridicule.  But  I 
did  not  merit  the  supercilious  airs  with 
which  Miss  Hatch  had  treated  me,  and  to- 


42  BOLANYO. 

ward  her  I  had  not  entered  into  a  forgiving 
mood,  though  now  I  know  that  had  she  en 
tered  the  room  while  I  was  indulging  these 
reflections,  I  should  graciously  have  agreed 
that  she,  too,  had  always  been  one  of  the 
''best  of  fellows." 

The  Senator  came  in  just  before  supper- 
time,  bringing  a  newspaper,  which  he  said 
was  still  damp  with  the  dew  of  recent 
events.  He  carried  his  soft  hat  in  his  hand, 
nor  did  he  put  it  down  when,  unfolding  the 
paper,  he  stood  to  catch  the  light  at  the 
window.  He  said  that  he  supposed  I  must 
be  anxious  to  hear  from  the  great  world  of 
politics,  and  he  proceeded  to  read  an  edito 
rial  forecast  of  the  election  for  congressman 
from  the  state -at -large,  halting  to  comment 
upon  the  views  set  forth  and  making  slow 
gestures  with  his  hat.  It  was  a  local  jour 
nal,  but  it  had  reproduced  the  political 
opinions  of  other  publications,  and  these 
the  Senator  read  with  sharp  avidity.  I 
asked  him  if  he  thought  he  could  find  any 
theatrical  news,  but  he  cut  me  off  with  his 


A  MOMENT  OF  FORGIVENESS.  43 

hat,  and  gave  me  a  paragraph  on  beet  sugar, 
which  he  deplored  as  an  outrage,  intended 
to  lessen  the  value  of  the  plantations  down 
the  river.  The  light  was  fading,  and  I  was 
not  sorry.  He  stood  closer  to  the  window, 
that  he  might  better  harvest  the  last  glim 
mer  of  the  fading  day,  and  in  my  cold  dread 
of  his  lighting  a  lamp,  I  did  not  hear  what 
he  read,  simply  catching  now  and  then  such 
political  frayed  ends  as  per  capita  and  ad 
valorem. 

"Ah,"  said  he,  "here  is  a  liberal  extract 
from  Tomlinson's  great  speech.  But  it's 
getting  most  too  dark.  Shall  I  light  a 
lamp?" 

I  replied  that  I  was  afraid  that  he  might 
tire  himself  pursuing  his  kind  desire  to  en 
tertain  me. 

"Oh,  not  at  all,  not  at  all,  I  assure  you," 
he  quickly  spoke  up.  "But  I  guess  you've 
had  as  much  as  you  ought  to  digest  at  pres 
ent.  Feed,  but  don't  gorge,  is  my  motto. 
A  hungry  calf  can  run  faster  than  a  foun 
dered  horse.  I  tell  you,"  he  added,  putting 


44  BOLANYO. 

the  paper  under  his  arm  and  coming  toward 
me,  "  there's  going  to  be  a  warm  election 
here  this  fall.  Of  course  I'm  a  candidate 
for  reelection — the  Senate  couldn't  get 
along  without  me — and  I  don't  know  that 
I've  got  but  one  very  bitter  enemy,  and  he  is 
none  other  than  the  editor  of  this  sheet, 
Sir,"  he  said,  striking  the  newspaper  with 
his  hat.  "For  a  long  time  he  was  my 
friend  and  supporter,  but  he  ran  against  me 
two  years  ago,  and  I  beat  him  so  badly  that 
since  then  he  has  been  my  enemy.  He  is 
a  cur,  and  as  sure  as  he  lives  I'll  get  even 
with  him.  And  as  the  season  approaches  I 
expect  every  day  to  find  in  his  paper  a  scur 
rilous  article  about  me;  all  he  wants  is  a 
pretext.  Ah,  here  is  Washington,  with 
your  supper." 

Cutting  with  his  hat  a  black  scallop  in 
the  twilight,  the  Senator  withdrew.  The 
giant  placed  the  tray  of  dishes  upon  a  chair 
and  lighted  a  hanging  lamp.  And  then  he 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  his  arms 
folded,  looking  at  me. 


A  MOMENT  OF  FORGIVENESS.  45 

"  Won't  you  please  sit  down?"  I  pleaded. 

* '  I  am  to  be  commanded,  Sir, "  he  replied, 
seating  himself,  and  under  his  ponderous 
bulk  the  chair  creaked. 

"Come  now,"  said  I,  "throw  away  your 
stilts  and  walk  on  the  ground.  I  have  quite 
enough  of  that  on  the  stage." 

He  looked  at  me,  slowly  shutting  and 
opening  his  eyes  as  if  determined  that  even 
his  wink  should  be  deliberate.  "And  don't 
you  think,  Sir,  that  it  would  be  well  if  you 
could  say  that  you  have  had  quite  enough 
of  the  stage  itself?" 

' '  I  don't  know  but  you  are  right,  Brother 
Washington.  At  any  rate  the  stage  has  had 
quite  enough  of  me.  I  am  called  the  ele 
phant." 

"Not  on  account  of  your  size,  Sir  ?  " 

"No,  on  account  of  my  weight." 

"Ah,  and  the  hearts  of  all  men  who  know 
not  the  Lord  shall  at  last  be  as  heavy  as 
the  elephant.  " 

"Very  true,  no  doubt.  I  wish  you'd  pour 
this  coffee  for  me." 


46  BOLANYO. 

He  came  forward  with  a  solemn  tread, 
poured  out  the  coffee,  and  returned  to  the 
chair  but  did  not  sit  down  until  I  com 
manded  him. 

"As  heavy  as  an  elephant,"  he  repeated, 
slowly  winking  at  me. 

' « In  working  for  the  soul  of  the  white 
man,  Brother  Washington,"  said  I,  "you 
have  set  about  to  return  a  good  for  an  evil. 
The  white  man  enslaved  your  body  and  now 
you  would  free  his  soul." 

"Sir,  the  first  shipload  of  negroes  sent 
to  this  country  was  the  first  blessing  that 
fell  upon  the  Ethiopian  race.  In  slavery 
we  served  an  apprenticeship  to  enlighten 
ment.  Wisdom  could  not  have  reached  us 
through  any  other  channel.  The  negro  was 
not  born  with  the  germ  of  self-civilization.'' 

"You  are  a  philosopher,  at  any  rate." 

'  *  No,  humbler,  and  yet  greater,  than  a 
philosopher,"  he  replied. 

"All  right,  I'm  ready  to  grant  anything. 
By  the  way,  tell  me  something  about  the 
Senator  and  his  family." 


A  MOMENT  OF  FORGIVENESS.  47 

"If  he  has  told  you  nothing,  I  am  at  lib 
erty  to  tell  nothing,  for,  as  yet,  you  are  a 
stranger." 

"Oh,  I  see.  He's  a  shrewd  politician, 
isn't  he  ? " 

"He  is  a  gentleman  and  he  is  not  dull. 
He  was  my  friend  w'en  dem  scoun'rels — 

I  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  His  fall  into 
the  dialect  of  his  brethren  had  come  like  a 
slap.  He  bowed  his  head,  and  I  know  that 
had  not  the  blackness  of  his  skin  prevented 
it  he  would  have  blushed  in  his  disgrace. 
He  did  not  look  up  again  until  I  spoke  to 
him,  and  then  he  showed  me  a  sorrow- 
stricken  countenance. 

"  Don't  take  it  so  hard,  Brother  Washing 
ton.  Such  lapses  must  come  once  in  a 
while.  You  remind  me  of  an  old  fellow 
who  lost  his  religion  occasionally  by  swear 
ing." 

"  Haw-haw,"  he  laughed.  "  One  in  my 
church  right  now.  Swore  at  his  mule  the 
other  day  and  then  dropped  down  in  the 
corner  of  the  fence  and  offered  to  mortgage 


48  BOLANYO. 

his  crop  to  the  Lord  for  one  more  chance. 
Yas,  Sah — I  mean  yes,  Sir,"  he  added,  the 
shadow  of  disgrace  falling  again  upon  his 
countenance.  *  *  If  you  have  finished  your 
supper  I  will  remove  the  dishes,"  he  said. 

' '  Thank  you, "  and  as  he  took  up  the  tray 
I  continued,  '  'And  by  the  way,  you  needn't 
sit  with  me  to-night.  I  don't  need  you  ;  I 
am  not  so  badly  hurt  as  they  thought  I  was; 
and,  in  fact,  I  can  sleep  better  if  left  abso 
lutely  alone." 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  desire,  Sir,"  he  said, 
turning  upon  me  with  a  look  of  kindly  re 
proach.  "But  I  will  pray  for  you." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right." 

He  passed  out  into  the  hall,  but  I  called 
him  back  to  the  door.  « '  Brother  Wash 
ington,  I  didn't  mean  to  be  flippant  when  I 
said  'that's  all  right.'  I  respect  your  sin 
cerity." 

I  thought  that  he  glanced  about  for  a 
place  to  rest  the  tray,  to  halt  and  resume 
his  predetermined  fight  against  the  flesh 
and  the  devil  of  my  unholy  calling. 


A  MOMENT  OF  FORGIVENESS.  49 

"Ah,  shut  the  door,  Brother  Washing 
ton." 

"I  thought,  Sir,  that  you  had  recon 
sidered — 

"Not  to-day — some  other  time." 

He  looked  at  me,  making  no  motion  that 
I  could  see;  but  I  heard  the  tremulous  rat 
tle  of  the  teacup  in  the  saucer.  There 
was  so  much  of  pleading  in  his  look,  so 
much  that  was  martyr-like  in  his  silence, 
that  out  of  pity  it  arose  to  my  mind  to  call 
him  back,  but  then  came  the  cool  though 
just  decision  that  his  ardent  yearning  was 
but  a  spirit  of  ambitious  conquest. 

"Some  other  time,  Washington,"  I  said, 
as  he  turned  to  look  at  me. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

INTRODUCED   TO   MRS.   ESTELL. 

A^EEK   passed   by   with   no  sign  of 
a    setback   and  one    morning   the 
doctor   said   that    I   might  sit   up. 
Brother  Washington  eased  me  into 
a  rocking  chair,  and  stood  as  if  expecting 
me  to  command  him  to  continue  the  work 
of  my  conversion.      But  I  told  him  to  sit 
down,  a  position  which  he  always  assumed 
in  sorrow,  seeming  to  regard  it  as  a  retreat 
when  his  spirit  cried  for  a  charge. 

The  Senator  came  in  with  a  hearty  good 
morning,  and  instructed  Washington  to  draw 
my  chair  into  the  parlor.  The  sore  trial  of 
listening  to  Mrs.  Estell  had  come.  I  had 
not  seen  her,  had  made  no  inquiry  con 
cerning  her,  but  I  had  thought  of  her,  and 
not  with  kindness.  The  pleasure  of  getting 
50 


INTRODUCED  TO  MRS.  ESTELL.          51 

again  into  my  clothes  had  been  marred  by 
fancy's  sketch  of  her — sharp  of  voice  and 
sour  of  face — a  woman  whose  husband  had 
willingly  died,  leaving  her,  unfortunately, 
to  inflict  man  with  her  elocution.  I  wanted 
to  sit  alone  and  enjoy  the  sweet  scents  blown 
from  the  garden;  through  the  window  I  had 
seen  a  mocking-bird  alight  on  the  top  of  a 
magnolia  tree,  and  in  silence  I  wanted  to 
listen  to  his  song.  But  the  Senator  was  my 
benefactor.  He  had  found  me  a  wounded 
outcast,  lying  unconscious  on  the  sand,  and 
had  made  his  mansion  my  hospital;  and  I 
could  not  lift  an  ungrateful  ringer  in  protest 
against  a  torture  which  in  his  belief  was  an 
act  of  kindness. 

''Now  easy,  Washington,"  said  the  Sen 
ator  as  he  held  the  door  open.  "  That's  it, 
come  ahead." 

The  parlor  was  at  the  end  of  a  long  and 
lofty  hall.  The  Senator  opened  the  door. 
The  chair  was  drawn  across  the  threshold, 
and  I  found  myself  in  the  midst  of  dark, 
old-fashioned  furniture  and  the  portraits  of 


52  BOLANYO. 

Statesmen  and  of  ladies  done  by  French 
men  who  had  come  to  this  country  to  leave 
a  trail  of  art  along  the  shores  of  the  mighty 
river. 

4 '  Not  too  near  the  window,  Washington, " 
said  the  Senator.  *  'About  here.  Now  you 
can  go  about  your  business  and  I  will  intro 
duce  Mrs.  Estell." 

They  left  me  sitting  with  my  back  toward 
the  door.  I  wondered  why  there  should  be 
such  an  air  of  ceremony.  Was  it  the  cus 
tom  in  Bolanyo  to  dignify  a  torture  with  a 
stately  introduction?  But  I  had  not  long 
to  muse.  I  heard  the  Senator  returning. 
"Ah,  Mr.  Belford,"  he  said,  stepping  into 
the  room,  "let  me  present  you  to  my 
daughter,  Mrs.  Estell." 

I  looked  round  with  a  start,  and  a  living 
line  from  old  Chaucer,  in  golden  letters, 
hung  bright  before  me — "Her  glad  eyes." 
I  bowed ;  and  I  must  have  spluttered  my 
astonishment,  for  the  Senator  broke  out  in 
a  loud  and  ringing  laugh 

' '  Sit  down,  Florence, "  he  said,  drawing 


INTRODUCED  TO  MRS.  ESTELL.          53 

forward  a  chair  for  her.  And  then  to  me, 
while  softly  laughing,  he  observed  : 

' 4  Oh,  I  saw  you  were  distressed  at  the 
idea  of  being  read  to,  and  I  could  have  ex 
plained  that  you  needn't  look  forward  to 
any  infliction,  but  I  thought  I'd  wait  and  let 
you  find  it  out  for  yourself.  Why,  Sir,  this 
child  couldn't  bore  anybody." 

"Mr.  Belford,  don't  listen  to  him  when 
he  calls  me  a  child, "  she  spoke  up.  ' '  I  am  a 
staid  married  woman." 

I  had  not,  as  yet,  sufficiently  recovered 
from  my  astonishment  to  venture  a  word, 
so  I  merely  bowed,  and  read  anew  old 
Chaucer's  glowing  line. 

"  Yes,  a  child,"  said  the  Senator,  "but  a 
woman;  yes,  Sir,  as  manly  a  woman  as  you 
ever  saw — chase  a  fox  or  shake  a  '  possum 
out  of  a  persimmon  tree.  Well,  I  must  go 
down  town  and  see  what's  going  on.  Don't 
sit  up  too  long,  Mr.  Belford.  Send  for  Wash 
ington  and  he'll  pull  you  back  into  the  other 
room." 

"Mrs.  Estell,  I  was  never  more  agreeably 


54  BOLANYO. 

surprised,"  said  I,  when  the  Senator  had 
taken  his  leave.  "I  expected  to  be  tor 
mented  by  an  elocutionist." 

* '  If  an  elocutionist  is  your  terror,  you 
needn't  be  afraid  of  me,"  she  replied.  "I 
have  read  to  father  and  my  husband,  and 
that  is  the  extent  of  my — shall  I  say,  in 
flictions." 

*  *  Husband, "  I  repeated .  *  'Are  you  really 
married  ? " 

"  Surely.     Why  not?" 

•'  You  are  so  young — " 

4 '  I  am  not  old  enough  to  be  flattered  by 
that  remark,"  she  broke  in.  "  Yes,  I  have 
been  married  two  years.  My  husband  is 
the  State  Treasurer,  and  is  at  the  capital 
now,  but  will  be  home  next  week.  He  stays 
over  there  a  good  deal  of  the  time,  and  I  go 
with  him  once  in  a  while,  but  I  don't  like 
it  there.  I  like  my  old  home  better." 

"  I  don't  blame  you  for  that.  It  must  be 
a  charming  place.  Have  you  any  brothers 
or  sisters  ? " 

1 l  No,  Sir.      It  was  reserved  for  me  to  be 


INTRODUCED  TO  MRS.  ESTELL.  55 

the  only  and,  therefore,  the  spoiled  child. 
I  don't  remember  my  mother.  There's  her 
portrait." 

I  looked  at  a  picture  that  had  struck  me 
when  first  I  glanced  at  the  wall.  How 
truthfully  the  Frenchman  had  caught  a 
sweet  and  gentle  spirit;  how  exquisite  was 
the  art  that  had  vivified  those  loving  eyes 
with  the  speaking  light  of  life. 

"Charming,"  I  said  sincerely,  and  she 
did  not  look  upon  it  as  flattery,  but  ac 
cepted  it  as  a  truth.  I  looked  at  her  and 
she  did  not  avoid  my  eye,  but  met  it,  strong 
and  full,  with  her  own,  and  I  felt  that,  though 
gentle,  she  was  fearless.  Sometimes  the 
tone  of  her  voice  was  serious  and  the  ex 
pression  of  her  face  thoughtful,  but  her  eyes 
appeared  to  have  been  always  glad. 

"When  are  you  going  to  begin  reading 
to  me  ? "  I  asked,  after  we  had  sat  for  a 
time  in  a  contemplative  silence. 

"I'm  not  going  to  read  to  you.  Don't 
you  see  I  haven't  brought  a  book?" 


56  BOLANYO. 

"Then  play  something,"  I  requested, 
looking  toward  the  piano. 

"I  don't  play;  and  now  I  must  tell  you, 
Mr.  Belford,  that  I  haven't  a  single  accom 
plishment.  I  can't  sing,  and  I  never  cared 
for  dancing;  I  don't  draw,  wouldn't  attempt 
to  paint,  and  I  can't  speak  a  word  of  Ital 
ian.  I  was  never  intended  for  anything  but 
a  real  companion  for  my  father,  and  a  duti 
ful  wife  to  my  husband.  I  am  wholly  un 
adorned.  " 

> 

"No,  you  are  adorned  with  the  highest 
qualities.  Any  woman  can  learn  to  play  a 
piano,  to  speak  Italian  and  to  make  an  at 
tempt  at  painting,  but  every  woman  cannot 
be  a  perfect  companion  for  a  man." 

"And  a  dutiful  wife  to  her  husband,"  she 
said,  laughing.  '  '  But  to  be  dutiful  is  not  so 
serious  a  matter. — not  so  serious  to  us  as  I 
fancy  it  is  to  you  stage  people." 

"Well,  no,"  I  admitted;  "and  also  more 
serious  than  the  views  held  by  thousands  of 
good  people  who  live  in  the  large  cities." 

She  shrugged   her   shoulders.      "Nature 


INTRODUCED  TO  MRS.  ESTELL.  57 

doesn't  grant  divorces,"  she  said.  "Birds 
are  not  divorced." 

"But  they  change  mates  every  year,"  I 
replied. 

' '  Oh,  do  they  ?   The  shameless  creatures. " 

We  laughed,  looking  straight  into  each 
other's  eyes.  I  thought  that  she  would 
make  a  splendid  figure  on  the  stage,  and  I 
told  her  so,  expecting  to  hear  her  cry  out 
against  it,  but  she  did  not.  She  was  pleased. 
"I  have  had  that  sort  of  longing,"  she  said, 
"but  I  never  expressed  it,  knowing  that  it 
would  meet  with  a  storm  of  disapproval.  It 
wouldn't  do,"  she  continued,  shaking  her 
head.  * '  I  know  that  I  could  never  reach 
the  top,  and  a  lower  place — 

"Would  make  your  proud  heart  sore,"  I 
cried,  with  bitterness. 

She  gave  me  a  quick  look  of  compassion, 
but  said  nothing  ;  she  let  me  continue:  "I 
have  had  the  cold  clamps  put  on  my  im 
petuous  soul,  and,  trying  to  conquer  the 
evil  opinion  of  the  critic,  I  have  worked 
and  studied  under  the  stimulus  of  despair. 


58  BOLANYO. 

But  I  have  given  up  the  fight;  I  am  going 
to  quit  the  stage." 

I  leaned  toward  her,  hoping  for  a  protest, 
but  she  quietly  said,  * '  I  don't  blame  you, " 
and  I  settled  myself  back  with  a  sigh.  She 
had  seen  me  act. 

"What  line  of  work  do  you  intend  to 
take  up?"  she  inquired. 

* '  I  am  going  to  write  plays. " 

"And  will  you  be  satisfied  if.  you  don't 
write  the  best?" 

"I  hadn't  thought  of  that.  Yes,  in  that 
line  I  think  that  I  shall  be  satisfied  with 
merely  a  success." 

And  then  with  a  wisdom  that  made  me 
stare  at  her,  she  said:  "We  can  find  con 
tentment  in  the  middle  ground  of  a  second 
choice,  for  then  the  heart  has  had  its  day 
of  suffering." 

"What  do  you  read  to  your  father?"  I 
asked. 

"Dull  books  in  leather,"  she  answered. 
"And  I  have  sometimes  feared  that  this 
schooling  has  unfitted  me  for  the  light  and 


INTRODUCED  TO  MRS.  ESTELL.          59 

pleasing  society  of  my  friends.  They  called 
me  an  old  maid  before  I  was  twenty.  Oh, 
I've  got  something  to  show  you,"  she  cried, 
jumping  up  and  running  out  of  the  room; 
and  soon  she  returned  with  a  little  chicken 
held  against  her  cheek.  "A  hawk  carried 
its  mother  away,  and  all  of  its  brothers  and 
sisters  were  drowned  in  the  rain.  Listen 
to  the  little  thing.  Isn't  it  sweet?  I  had 
a  pet  duck  once  and  I  loved  it  until  it  got 
big  enough  to  go  out  and  get  its  feet  muddy 
and  then — I  granted  it  a  divorce.  And  after 
a  while  this  little  thing  will  grow  up  and 
leave  me,  won't  you,  pet?  No,  you  won't, 
will  you?  There,  I  knew  you  wouldn't. 
You'll  always  be  little  and  lovable,  and  will 
stay  with  me.  Come  on,  now,  and  let's  go 
back  to  the  kitchen."  She  tripped  out  a 
girl,  singing  as  she  went,  but  she  came  back 
a  woman;  and  of  the  ways,  the  air  and  the 
ambitions  of  the  town  I  gathered  more 
from  a  few  moments  of  her  talk  than  her 
father  could  have  given  me  in  an  hour's 
oration.  He  knew  the  men,  but  she  knew 


60  BOLANYO. 

the  whims;  and  while  men  may  build  the 
houses  and  make  the  laws,  it  is  the  whim 
that  makes  the  atmosphere.  And  for  this 
reason  an  old  town  is  always  more  inter 
esting  than  a  new  one.  The  subtle  influ 
ence  of  odd  characters  long  since  gone 
continues  to  live  in  the  air.  The  Spaniards 
had  settled  on  the  site  of  Bolanyo,  and 
though  naught  but  the  faint  tracings  of  a 
fortified  camp  were  left  to  mark  the  manner 
of  their  occupation,  still  the  town  felt  the 
honor  of  almost  an  ancient  origin. 

We  talked  until  nearly  noontime;  until 
there  came  a  light  tap  at  the  open  door. 
I  looked  up  and  there  stood  the  black 
giant. 

"Pardon  me,"  he  said,  "but  I  am  afraid 
you  have  been  up  long  enough." 

"Hannibal,  your  unbending  discipline — " 
I  began,  but  with  lifting  his  mighty  hand 
he  shut  me  off. 

*  *  I  am  a  soldier  of  the  Lord  and  Hanni 
bal  was  a  soldier  of  the  devil,"  he  said. 
4 '  Please  don't  compare  us. " 


INTRODUCED  TO  MRS.  ESTELL.  61 

Mrs.  Estell  jumped  up,  laughing.  "You'll 
have  to  do  as  he  tells  you,  Mr.  Belford." 

I  had  no  time  to  argue  against  his  author 
ity,  for  already  he  had  advanced  and  put 
his  hands  on  the  back  of  my  chair.  She 
walked  beside  me  down  the  hall,  and  as  the 
giant  was  easing  the  chair  across  the  thresh 
old  of  my  room  she  said: 

"I  hope  you'll  soon  get  well,  and  when 
you  do,  we'll  go  fox-hunting,  you  and  papa 
and  I.  Won't  that  be  fun?" 

"I  don't  know,"  I  answered,  from  the 
inside  of  the  room.  "Oh,  yes,  it  will  be 
fun  for  you  and  your  father." 

The  negro  took  hold  of  the  door  as  if  im 
patient  to  shut  it,  and  I  looked  at  him  hard 
enough,  I  thought,  to  have  bored  him 
through,  but,  giving  me  simply  the  heed  of 
his  slow  wink,  he  continued  to  stand  there. 

"Of  course,  you  can  ride  a  horse,"  she 
said;  and  quickly  she  added:  "Gracious 
alive,  Washington,  don't  look  at  me  that 
way.  Good-bye,  Mr.  Belford." 

The  negro  closed  the  door.      "Damn  it, 


62  BOLANYO. 

man,  what  do  you  mean?"  I  cried.  " Con 
found  you,  can't  you  see — " 

"Sir,"  he  said,  standing  over  me  with 
his  arms  folded,  "do  you  know  what  you 
are  saying?" 

"Yes,  I  do,  and  I  want  to  tell  you  right 
now,  and  once  for  all,  that  I  appreciate 
your  kindness,  but  will  not  submit  to  your 
insolence.  Do  you  understand?" 

"I  hear  you,  Sir." 

"But  do  you  understand;  that's  the 
question?" 

"I  understand,  but  you  don't,"  he  said. 
"Now,  listen  to  me.  There  is  the  noblest 
young  woman  in  the  world;  when  she  was 
a  child  I  was  her  horse,  the  black  beast 
who  delighted  to  do  her  bidding.  I  know 
her — I  know  she  is  hungry  for  someone  to 
talk  to.  Now,  do  you  understand?" 

I  did,  but  I  said  "No."  I  knew  that  she 
was  hungry;  but  if  I  could  give  her  food, 
why  should  this  monster  dash  it  to  the 
ground? 

' '  If  you  don't,  the  theatre  is  a  more  in- 


INTRODUCED  TO  MRS.  ESTELL.          63 

nocent  place  than  I  think  it  is,"  he  replied. 

I  looked  up  at  him  and  he  winked  at  me 
slowly.  '  •  But  you  say  she  is  noble, "  I  said. 

"She  is,  Sir,  and  strong;  but  a  marriage 
tie  cannot  hold  an  unwilling  mind.  Don't 
misunderstand  me,  Sir.  The  greatest  harm 
you  could  do  would  be  to  make  her  still 
more  dissatisfied.  With  the  presumption 
of  an  old  servant,  I  may  say  something  that 
sounds  impertinent,  but  I  am  a  preacher 
and  a  moralist.  Thomas  Rodney  Estell  is 
regarded  here  as  a  great  man;  he  has  been 
State  Treasurer  nearly  ten  years,  and  he 
and  the  Senator  are  warm  friends." 

"Well?"  I  said. 

He  looked  up  at  the  ceiling  and  replied: 
"A  girl  may  marry  her  father's  friend,  but 
it  is  not  often  that  she  loves  him." 

"Washington,  are  you  in  league  with  the 
devil?" 

This  struck  through  the  superficial  coat 
ing  of  his  education,  into  his  real  negro 
nature  and  made  him  roar  with  laughter. 
"No,  Sah,  I'm  er  feard  o'  him;"  but  feel- 


64  BOLANYO. 

ing  the  disgrace  of  his  dialect  he  sobered 
and  said:  "I  think  you  understand  me 
now,  Mr.  Belford. " 

"Yes,  I  do,  and  I  don't  blame  you.  But 
before  we  go  further  let  me  tell  you  this:  I 
have  been  on  the  stage,  which  is  quite 
enough  to  fix  my  character  in  the  opinion 
of  many  a  good  but  narrow-minded  person, 
but  I  am  from  a  long  line  of  Puritan 
stock,  and  in  my  blood  there  is  a  strong 
sense  of  moral  responsibility.  I  have  never 
made  an  intentional  show  of  those  puritanic 
influences;  I  have  striven  rather  to  hide 
them  from  the  contempt  of  my  lighter- 
hearted  companions;  but  a  sagacious  old 
stage-strutter  once  held  up  my  overreligous 
ancestors  as  the  cause  of  my  failure  to  catch 
the  subtle  art  of  a  high  grade  of  work.  He 
declared  that  all  great  English-speaking 
actors  could  trace  their  blood  back  to  the 
cart's  tail." 

"I  don't  understand,    Mr.   Belford — the 
reference  to  the  cart's  tail. " 

1 '  To  ease  their  consciences  and  to  serve 


INTRODUCED  TO  MRS.  ESTELL.          65 

the  Lord  with  becoming  activity,  it  was  the 
custom  of  the  Puritans,  in  the  olden  day, 
to  condemn  actors  and  tie  them  to  the  tail 
of  a  cart,  and  whip  them  through  the 
street. " 

4 '  I  have  never  read  about  it,  Mr.  Belford. " 

"I  suppose  not.  Church  history  doesn't 
dwell  upon  it." 

He  turned  toward  the  door,  faced  about 
and  said:  "The  woman  will  bring  your 
dinner.  I  am  going  out  among  my  people 
and  shall  not  be  here  again  until  to 
morrow." 

"You  needn't  come  then,  Washington." 

"Yes,  to  pull  your  chair  into  the  parlor." 

"That's  so.     Thank  you." 

He  stood  for  a  moment  in  silence,  and, 
without  speaking,  he  stepped  back,  and, 
with  a  grave  nod  and  a  slow  wink,  he  softly 
shut  the  door. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  NOTORIOUS  BUGG  PETERS. 

I  MENDED  so  rapidly  that  within  a  week 
I  was  able  to  walk  about.  Washington 
had  every  day  drawn  my  chair  into  the 
parlor;  but  when  I  no  longer  was  in 
need  of  this  physical  service,  he  continued 
his  visits  to  give  me  the  benefit  of  his  spir 
itual  strength.  And  once,  when  he  came  into 
my  room,  like  a  dark  reproach,  I  chopped 
off  his  moral  droning  with  the  command  to 
' '  get  out !  "  He  obeyed  in  silence,  and  I 
thought  that  I  had  given  our  relationship  a 
mortal  wound.  But  in  the  garden  the  next 
day  he  came  up  with  unusual  cheeriness  and 
invited  me  to  his  church  to  hear  him  preach 
upon  the  strength  of  the  Spirit  and  the 
weakness  of  the  human  family. 

One  day  the  Senator  took  me  out  in  his 

66 


THE  NOTORIOUS  BUGG  PETERS.          67 

buggy.  He  drove  me  through  the  town, 
and  what  a  delight  it  was  once  more  to  look 
upon  the  affairs  of  man.  The  buildings 
were  for  the  most  part  old,  and  many  of 
them  were  dingy  from  neglect,  but  the  air 
was  restful  and  romantic.  At  every  turn, 
after  leaving  the  business  center,  we  came 
upon  magnolia  trees,  now  in  full  bloom. 
Here  was  a  garden  whose  low  brick  walls 
were  green  and  gray  with  time,  a  patch  of 
moss  and  a  cluster  of  snails;  and  away 
over  yonder  was  a  blush  on  the  landscape— 
a  jungle  of  roses.  There  were  flowers  every 
where,  and  far  from  the  mansions  of  the 
lordly  was  many  a  log  hut,  beautiful  in  a 
tangle  of  vines.  We  drove  down  the  river, 
toward  a  densely  timbered  flat,  but  did  not 
penetrate  its  malarious  shade,  the  Senator 
choosing  to  turn  to  the  left  to  drive  me  to 
a  distant  hill  whereon  stood  the  school  for 
girls,  the  one  of  which  he  might  have  taken 
charge,  had  not  his  fight  with  Lige  Patton 
proved  him  fitted  for  a  more  manly  charge— 
the  male  academy.  As  we  were  driving 


68  BOLANYO. 

along,  a  tall,  gaunt  man  climbed  over  a 
fence,  stepped  out  into  the  road  and  sig 
naled  us  to  stop.  The  Senator  drew  up, 
laughing.  The  man  came  forward,  put  his 
hands  on  the  buggy  tire,  took  them  off, 
"  dusted"  them  to  brush  off  the  dirt,  and 
put  them  on  the  tire  again.  The  Senator 
introduced  Mr.  Peters,  and  our  detainer 
looked  up,  grinned  and  said  : 

' '  Yes,  Sir,  the  notorious  Bugg  Peters. " 
His  face  was  thin  and  sallow,  his  long 
hair  looked  like   hay,    and  his   eyes  were 
simply  two  pale  yellow  spots. 

' '  Out  ridin'  for  your  health,    Senator? " 
"No,  just  thought  I'd  show  my  friend, 
Mr.  Belford,  the  town  and  the  country." 

"Ah,  hah!  Oh,  yes,  he's  one  of  the  men 
that  was  blowed  up.  And  he's  stayin'  at 
your  house.  Ah,  hah!  He's  about  the  last 
of  'em,  ain't  he?  I  heard  that  all  that  wan't 
dead  had  put  off  somewhere.  Never  was 
blowed  up,  that  is,  by  a  boat,  but  I've  went 
through  mighty  nigh  everything  else.  Almost 
hugged  to  death  by  a  bear  down  in  the  cane- 


THE  NOTORIOUS  BUGG  PETERS.          69 

brake  just  before  the  June  rise  eight  year 
ago.  Don't  reckon  your  friend  was  ever 
hugged  by  a  bear,"  he  went  on,  speaking  of 
me  as  if  I  were  not  there. 

"No,"  I  answered. 

4  *  Then  you've  got  a  good  deal  to  look 
forward  to,"  he  replied,  recognizing  that, 
like  Paul,  I  was  permitted  to  speak  for  my 
self.  ' '  I've  had  a  good  many  things  to  hap 
pen  to  me,  first  and  last,  but  I  don't  know 
of  anything  worse  than  a  bear's  hug,  unless 
it  is  son-in-laws." 

The  Senator  began  to  laugh  and  I  looked 
at  Mr.  Peters  for  an  explanation.  He  did 
not  keep  me  waiting. 

* '  I've  got  seven  son-in-laws  down  yonder 
in  my  house  right  now,"  he  said,  "dusting" 
his  hands  again  and  putting  them  back  on 
on  the  tire.  "Every  time  a  gal  of  mine 
gits  married  she  goes  away  for  a  few  days 
with  her  husband,  and  then  fetches  him  back 
with  the  ague;  and  he  settles  down  in  my 
house  and  there  he  shakes.  Got  seven  of 
them  down  there  now  a-shakin'  fit  to  kill 


70  BOLANYO. 

themselves.  If  you'll  step  over  there  on  that 
rise,  you  can  look  down  in  the  bottoms  and 
see  my  house,  and  I'll  bet  you  it's  a-tremblin' 
like  a  leaf  right  now.  Them  seven  fellers 
keep  it  a-shakin'  all  the  time.  Yes,  Sir. 
Now,  when  Mag  took  a  man,  I  says,  says  I, 
1  Mag,  I  have  always  looked  on  you  as  the 
smartest  one  of  the  family,  and  I  want  you 
to  do  me  a  favor;  I  want  you  to  see  if  you 
can't  take  that  feller  of  your'n  so  far  away 
that  he  can't  git  back. '  And,  Sir,  I  sold  my 
oats  and  give  her  the  money,  and  she  cleared 
out,  but  in  less  than  a  month  here  she  come, 
with  her  husband  shakin'  like  a  wet  dog.  I 
told  him  to  go  in  and  find  shakin'  room  if 
he  could,  and  he  crowded  his  way  up  to  the 
fireplace,  and  there  he  sets  this  minute, 
a-shakin'  like  a  pound  of  calfsfoot  jelly." 

"Look  here,  Bugg,"  said  the  Senator, 
laughing,  ' '  why  don't  you  move  out  of  the 
bottoms?" 

"What,  and  go  up  in  the  hills  and  ketch 
some  new-fangled  disease  that  I  don't  know 
nothin'  about?  I  reckon  not,  Senator.  Fve 


THE  NOTORIOUS  BUGG  PETERS.          71 

learned  to  let  well  enough  alone,  and  jest 
ordinary  everyday  chills  is  good  enough  for 
me.  Mister,  how  long  are  you  goin'  to  be 
with  us?"  he  inquired  of  me. 

"I  don't  know  exactly.  I  wanted  to  go 
yesterday,  but  the  Senator  wouldn't  hear 
to  it." 

"Well,  I  don't  reckon  you  are  able  to  do 
much  knockin'  about  yet.  Don't  believe 
I'd  be  snatched,  anyway.  Like  for  you  to 
come  down  to  see  us  before  you  go.  I  can 
show  you  about  the  finest  and  shakinest  set 
of  son-in-laws  you  ever  saw.  Did  think 
somethin'  of  showin'  'em  at  the  State  Fair 
this  fall.  But  say,  gentlemen,  you  must 
sorter  excuse  me  for  stoppin'  you;  but  I 
wanted  to  see  the  Senator  on  business." 

The  Senator  gathered  up  the  lines  as  if 
he  had  a  suspicion  of  the  business  referred 
to,  and  therefore  desired  to  drive  on,  but 
Mr.  Peters  in  a  distressful  tone  of  voice  im 
plored  him  to  wait  a  moment.  "  I  want  to 
ask  a  favor,"  he  said.  "Wouldn't  do  it  if 
it  wan't  for  the  fact  that  they  are  all  down 


72  BOLANYO. 

there  shakin'  for  dear  life.  I  want  to  give 
you  my  note  for  ten  dollars  for  thirty  days. 
You  know  I'll  take  it  up." 

4 'Yes,  if  you  should  happen  to  find  it," 
the  Senator  replied. 

"Come,  now,  Senator,  don't  talk  that 
way.  You  might  give  this  here  man  that 
was  blowed  up  a  bad  opinion  of  me.  I've 
got  the  good  opinion  of  everybody  else,  and 
I  don't  want  the  bad  respects  of  a  man  that 
has  fell  down  in  amongst  us." 

'  *  Bugg,  how  many  of  your  thirty-day 
notes  do  you  suppose  I've  got?" 

"Why,  none,"  he  declared  in  great  sur 
prise. 

* '  I  can  show  you  twenty  at  least, "  said 
the  Senator. 

'  *  Well,  now, "  Mr.  Peters  began  to  drawl, 
"this  here  is  news  to  me,  and  mighty  sad 
news  at  that.  Huh,  I  don't  see  how  I  could 
have  made  such  a  mistake." 

"I  was  the  one  that  made  the  mistake," 
the  Senator  replied. 

"Now  don't   say  that,    Talcom.     Dang 


THE  NOTORIOUS  BUGG  PETERS.          73 

it,  haven't  I  always  voted  for  you?  Why, 
Sir,  at  the'  last  election  I  went  to  the  polls 
with  a  chill  on  me,  and  I  shook  so  hard  it 
took  two  men  to  hold  me  still  long  enough 
to  shove  my  ticket  in.  Oh,  I  don't  deny 
that  I  might  owe  you  a  note  or  so — may  be 
the  addition  of  another  son-in-law  kept  me 
from  payin'  it — but  all  my  gals  are  married 
now,  and  I  don't  look  for  any  big  increase 
in  the  family  till  my  sister  and  her  husband 
come  from  over  in  Arkansas  to  live  with 
me;  and  as  they  ain't  well  and  will  have  to 
pick  their  way  along  the  best  they  can,  I'll 
have  time  to  take  up  a  half  a  dozen  notes 
by  the  time  they  git  here." 

"What  do  you  want  with  the  money, 
Bugg?" 

"Why,  I  need  about  five  bushels  of 
wheat.  That's  what  I  want  with  it." 

"Well,  here,"  said  the  Senator,  taking 
out  a  notebook,  "I'll  give  you  an  order  on 
my  overseer  for  five  bushels  of  wheat." 

"Talcom,  by  gosh  you  move  me,  and  I 
am  fit  right  now  to  drap  a  tear  in  the  palm 


74  BOLANYO. 

of  your  hand.  Yes,  Sir,  you  can  come 
nearer  makin'  me  cry  than  any  man  I  ever 
run  across." 

The  Senator  gave  him  the  order,  and  we 
drove  on,  leaving  him  in  the  road  to  whine 
his  gratitude  and  loudly  to  swear  that  at  the 
next  election  he  would  vote  all  right,  even  if 
it  should  take  a  dozen  men  to  hold  him  up. 

' '  Why  do  you  permit  such  fellows  to  rob 
you?"  I  asked. 

"Belford,  I  can't  help  myself.  That 
poor  wretch  comes  near  telling  the  truth 
about  his  sons-in-law.  Of  course,  he's  as 
shiftless  as  a  stray  dog,  but  he's  kind-hearted 
and  has  a  sense  of  humor  that  tickles  me. 
And,  after  all,  it  doesn't  seem  right  that  I 
should  have  an  abundance  and  that  other 
men  within  sight  of  me  should  be  in  want." 
He  took  off  his  hat  to  wave  it  gracefully  at  a 
lady  as  she  passed,  and  still  holding  it  in 
his  hand,  he  continued:  "It's  luck,  Bel- 
ford,  nothing  but  luck.  I've  never  had  any 
management.  I  have  a  set  of  books,  but 
half  the  time  I  don't  know  where  I  stand. 


THE  NOTORIOUS  BUGG  PETERS.          75 

My  plantation  pays,  not  because  it's  well 
managed,  but  because  the  land's  rich.  I 
bought  it,  together  with  the  house  I  live  in, 
with  money  that  was  left  me,  and  the  fact 
that  I  am  not  compelled  to  scuffle  for  a  liv 
ing  is  no  particular  credit  to  me.  It's  sim 
ply  luck.  I've  got  sense  enough  not  to 
reach  too  high.  Some  time  ago  they  wanted 
to  run  me  for  governor,  but  I  knew  what 
that  meant.  It  meant  two  or  perhaps  four 
years  in  the  State  House,  and  then  relega 
tion  to  the  shade  of  a  'has  been.'  I  like 
politics,  I  like  to  fight  for  measures,  and 
my  position  as  State  Senator  suits  me  ex 
actly;  and  I  believe  I  can  hold  it  for  a  num 
ber  of  years  to  come.  It  is  true  that  I  am 
largely  preyed  upon— 

"By  white  and  black,"  I  suggested. 

"Yes,  in  a  measure.  How  are  you, 
Uncle  Gabe?"  he  called,  bowing  to  an  old 
man. 

'  *  By  the  notorious  Bugg — and  by  Wash 
ington,"  I  ventured. 

"Ah,   Washington   is   different.      I    give 


76  EOLANYO. 

money  to  his  church,  and  he  is  free  to  come 
and  go  as  he  pleases.  I  was  the  means  of 
his  education,  and,  though  ignoring  politics, 
he  controls  a  large  negro  vote.  Look  out 
over  there,  you  boys,  that  mule  might  kick 
you.  Aunt  Sally,  glad  to  see  you  (bowing 
to  a  countrywoman  who  came  jogging  along 
on  a  horse).  Folks  all  well?  All  but  Uncle 
John,  eh?  Hope  he'll  be  out  again  soon." 
We  were  far  beyond  the  outskirts  of  the 
town,  on  a  rise  commanding  a  delightful 
view  of  groves,  gardens,  old  houses,  a  fort 
in  ruins,  the  easy-going  city  and  the  river. 
We  passed  the  school  for  young  ladies,  and 
the  Senator  waved  his  hat  at  a  vision  of 
white  and  pink  on  the  portico.  "My 
daughter  Florence  was  graduated  here," 
said  he.  "And,  by  the  way,  you  haven't 
met  Estell.  He  was  to  have  come  home 
several  days  ago,  but  business  kept  him. 
Florence  is  looking  for  him  to-day,  I  be 
lieve.  Strong  man,  about  your  size — not 
quite  so  tall.  You  are  a  good  deal  of  a  man 
when  you  are  yourself,  I  take  it." 


THE  NOTORIOUS  BUGG  PETERS.          77 

' '  I  have  done  pretty  fair  work  in  a  gym 
nasium,"  I  replied. 

We  turned  into  a  broad  road  that  led  to 
town,  and  which  passed  the  Senator's  house. 
It  was  a  military  road,  my  companion  said, 
and  had  been  marked  by  the  passage  of  old 
Jackson's  troops. 

"Senator,  my  obligations  to  you  are  very 
deep  indeed,  and  I  have  refrained  from  say 
ing  anything— 

"Well,  then,  don't  say  anything  now. 
It's  all  right.  Boat  blew  up  at  the  door  of 
our  city,  and  why  shouldn't  we  care  for  the 
unfortunates?" 

' '  But  before  going  away  I  want  to  give 
you  some  sort  of  an  expression  of— 

"That's  all  right,  Sir.  There's  time 
enough." 

"No,  I  shall  go  to-morrow." 

"Better  wait  a  day  or  two.  Have  you 
an  engagement  in  view?" 

"No,  and  I  shall  not  look  for  one.  I 
have  decided  to  quit  the  stage." 

"Well,   Sir,    I  don't    know  but    you  are 


78  BOLANYO. 

wise.  It  must  be  an  uncertain  sort  of  life. 
But  what  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"I  am  going  to  write  plays." 

" That's  well  enough;  easy  work  I  should 
think.  All  you've  got  to  do  is  to  hatch  out 
your  plot  and  then  stand  your  people  around 
it.  And  look  here,  Belford,  there  are  char 
acters  enough  about  here  to  make  one  of 
the  best  plays  you  ever  saw.  Why  not 
stay  here  and  do  your  writing?  The  fact  is, 
we  like  you,  and  don't  want  you  to  go 
away. " 

"But  I  must  go." 

' '  You  say  so,  but  I  don't  look  at  it  that 
way.  Of  course,  if  you  are  tired  of  our 
slow  and  dull  city,  Sir,  you— 

"Tired?"  I  broke  in.  "It  is  the  most 
soothing  town  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 
The  days  melt  one  into  another  like  the 
mellow  words  of  an  ancient  rhetorician. " 

"Belford,  I  guess  you  are  about  ready  to 
begin  work  on  that  play,"  he  said,  laughing. 
"There's  always  a  strong  enthusiasm  be 
hind  that  sort  of  talk.  By  the  way,  do 


THE  NOTORIOUS  BUGG  PETERS.          79 

you  think  you  could  take  hold  of  an  opera 
house  and  manage  it?" 

"Yes,  I  think  so — I  know  I  could. 
Why?" 

"We  appear  to  be  getting  at  it,  Belford. 
We  have  a  very  good  opera  house  here,  al 
most  new.  A  man  from  New  Orleans  built 
it,  went  broke  in  a  bigger  speculation,  leased 
it  to  a  Dutchman  who  fiddled  in  the  orches 
tra,  and  now  the  house  is  without  a  man 
ager.  Suppose  you  take  it?" 

"I'd  take  it  in  a  minute,  Senator,  but 
the  fact  is,  I'm  broke." 

"Dollars  melted  like  the  mellow  words 
of  an  ancient  rhetorician,  eh?" 

For  a  few  moments  we  drove  on  in  silence, 
the  Senator  making  with  his  hat  half-circle 
greetings  to  constituents  who  stood  in  a 
dooryard  or  who  met  us  in  the  road.  "  Ha! 
Lester,"  he  cried  at  a  man  who  came  along 
in  a  wagon  behind  a  span  of  mules;  and 
then  to  me  he  said:  "A  few  years  ago 
that  fellow  took  it  into  his  head  that  I  was 
a  little  too  conspicuous — :I  had  called  him  a 


8o  BOLANYO. 

liar,  or  something  of  the  sort,  don't  remem 
ber  exactly  what — and  gave  it  out  that  he 
was  going  to  horsewhip  me.  And  I  sent 
him  word  to  buy  his  whip  from  Alf  Murray, 
first-class  harness  dealer,  and  a  friend  of 
mine,  and  that  I  would  meet  him  at  his 
earliest  convenience.  I  don't  know  whether 
he  patronized  my  friend  in  the  purchase  of 
a  whip,  but  I  know  that  when  I  met  him 
on  the  public  square  the  next  day  he  had 
one  as  long  as  a  bull-snake.  And,  Sir,  I 
believe  that  he  had  intended  to  hit  me 
with  it." 

"What  caused  him  to  change  his  mind?" 
I  inquired,  with  no  interest  in  the  matter. 

"Why,  I  knocked  him  down,  and  when 
he  was  able  to  get  up  and  look  around  again 
the  whip  was  gone.  Since  that  time  we've 
been  good  friends.  Now,  about  the  opera 
house.  You  say  you've  got  no  money. 
Now,  let  me  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  I'll  ad 
vance  the  money  and  go  in  as  a  partner. 
The  money  I  am  compelled  to  spend  during 
each  campaign  is  beginning  to  eat  seriously 


THE  NOTORIOUS  BUGG  PETERS.          81 

into  the  income  from  my  plantation,  and  I 
would  like  to  ease  up  the  pressure.  My 
part  might  not  be  a  great  deal,  but  it  would 
help.  What  do  you  say?" 

"  I  could  go  off  into  all  sorts  of  extrava 
gances,  Senator.  I  could  say  that  you  have 
made  my  blood  leap,  that  you — 

"But  that  wouldn't  be  businesslike. 
What  do  you  say?" 

"That  I  snap  at  your  proposition." 

"All  right,  I'll  go  down  to-morrow  and 
rent  the  house." 

' '  But  you  don't  care  to  have  your  name 
known  in  it,  do  you?" 

"Why  not?  It's  all  right.  These  people 
like  a  good  show,  and  if  we  give  them  the 
best,  it  will  make  me  still  more  useful  and 
popular.  Yes,  Sir,  it's  all  right,  and  we'll 
draw  up  the  papers  to-morrow." 
6 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE    STATE    TREASURER. 

THE  town  had  been  attractive,   but 
now    it    sprung    into    endearment. 
Emotion  was  strong  within  me  and 
my  spirits  rose,  to  find  a  new  inter 
est  in  everything   and  to  pick  up  many  a 
jest  by  the  roadside.      I  caught  the  song  of 
an  old  man  who  stood  near  the  turnpike, 
trimming  a  young  orchard;  and  the  laugh 
ter  of  a  child  that  was  romping  on  the  grass 
when    we    stopped    at    a   toll    gate    threw 
sparkles  of  new  life  in  the  air.      One  sweet 
thrill  of  selfishness   had  made   the   whole 
world  musical  and  glad. 

* '  Senator,  whose  house  is  that  over  yon 
der,  to  the  left?" 

"Mine,"  he  answered.      "Oh,   yes,  this 
is  the  first  time  you've  had  an  opportunity 
82 


THE  STATE  TREASURER.  83 

to  view  it  from  a  distance.  We  are  out  too 
far  to  have  the  advantage  of  gas  and  city 
water,  but  we've  got  room  to  swing  round 
in,  and  that's  worth  everything.  Lumber 
dealer  came  one  day  and  wanted  to  know 
what  I'd  take  for  those  walnuts.  I  told 
him  that  I'd  take  human  life  if  it  was  nec 
essary.  Hang  me,  if  I  didn't  feel  like  setting 
the  dogs  on  him.  I  do  believe,"  he  said, 
shading  his  eyes,  "that  yonder  are  Estell 
and  Florence.  Yes,  Sir,  he's  got  home." 

At  the  gate,  beneath  the  walnut  trees,  a 
man  and  a  woman  stood  looking  toward  us. 
The  woman  was  Mrs.  Estell.  I  had  recog 
nized  her  before  the  Senator  directed  my 
attention;  I  should  have  known  her  a  mile 
away.  Her  gracefulness  was  so  original 
that  she  must  have  been  unconscious  of  its 
effect.  The  soft  climate  of  the  South  had 
touched  her  with  its  ease,  but  she  seemed 
ever  on  the  verge  of  breaking  away  from  it; 
and  sometimes  she  did,  not  with  mere  gay- 
ety,  but  with  unconquerable  strength.  She 


84  BOLANYO. 

enforced  upon  me  the  belief  that  she  had 
taken  fencing  lessons. 

"And  suppose  he  should  object  to  our 
compact?"  was  a  surmise  that  passed  through 
my  mind;  and  I  did  not  realize  that  I  had 
given  it  actual  utterance  until  the  Senator 
surprised  me  by  saying: 

"None  of  his  business.  Our  affair. 
Taking  care  of  the  funds  of  the  State  gives 
him  about  all  he  can  look  after.  Helloa, 
there,  Estell,  why  don't  you  come  out  to 
meet  a  fellow?" 

"On  the  keen  jump,  now,"  Estell  replied, 
coming  slowly  to  meet  us,  his  wife  walking 
with  him.  It  might  have  been  the  eye  of 
prejudice  that  made  him  look  so  old,  though 
why  should  there  have  been  an  eye  of  prej 
udice?  His  mustache  was  cropped  off,  stiff 
and  gray,  and  his  skin  was  thin  on  his  cheeks 
and  thick  under  his  chin.  The  Senator 
introduced  us,  with  heartiness  and  a  flourish, 
and  the  moment  I  took  Estell's  hand  I  knew 
that  from  his  lofty  position  among  the  money 
bags  of  the  State  he  could  not  look  down 


THE  STATE  TREASURER.  85 

and  find  an  interest  in  me.  His  nature  was 
financial,  his  instincts  commercial;  and  I 
can  say  with  truth  that  commerce  embodied 
in  a  strong  and  aggressive  personality  has 
always  made  me  shudder.  I  am  afraid  of 
the  man  who  delights  to  make  figures;  I 
feel  that  I  am  in  his  power.  I  might  not 
hesitate  to  dispute  with  a  most  learned  theo 
logian,  to  hang  with  him  upon  the  quirks 
of  his  creed,  but  with  a  pencil  and  a  piece 
of  paper  a  banker's  clerk  can  cower  me. 

The  Senator  assisted  me  to  alight,  the 
Treasurer  lending  a  pretense  of  his  aid;  and 
we  went  without  delay  to  the  dining-room 
where  dinner  was  waiting.  The  Estells  sat 
opposite  the  Senator  and  me;  and  the  mas 
ter  of  the  house  and  his  son-in-law  began 
to  talk  over  the  affairs  of  State. 

"Hope  you  had  a  pleasant  drive,"  Mrs. 
Estell  said  to  me. 

"Charming;  we  had  a  fine  view  of  the 
town,  saw  the  old  fort,  and  passed  your 
college." 

"Stupid  old  place,   isn't  it?     But  then, 


86  BOLANYO. 

it's  dear,  just  like  stupid  people.  Did  you 
ever  notice  how  dear  stupid  people  are? 
They  are  sometimes  our  dearest  ones.  I 
suppose  they  feel  that  about  the  only  thing 
they  can  do  is  to  make  themselves  dear." 

Estell  was  saying  something  about  $246,- 
724,  or  something  that  sounded  like  that 
amount,  but  he  dropped  it  to  ask:  "  Flor 
ence,  what  are  you  talking  about?" 

' '  Stupid  people.  But  you  are  not  in 
terested." 

' '  No,  of  course  not,  but  I  was  trying  to 
get  at  an  exact  amount,  and  you  bothered 
me  for  a  moment." 

*  *  It's  all  right,  let  it  go, "  said  the  Senator. 
'  *  By  the  way,  Mr.  Belford  and  I  have  en 
tered  into  a  business  arrangement.  We  are 
going  to  run  the  opera  house  and  share 
profits." 

Mrs.  Estell  cried  "good."  Estell  gave 
her  a  look  of  reproof,  I  thought.  "You 
mean  that  you  are  going  to  share  losses," 
he  said.  "The  thing  was  an  elephant  on 
Sanderson's  hands." 


THE  STATE  TREASURER.  87 

44  But  it  won't  be  on  ours,"  the  Senator 
spoke  up.  44We  know  how  to  run  it. 
Don't  we,  Belford?" 

4 '  I  think  we  do, "  I  answered.  4  *  My  fel 
low-players  called  me  the  manager's  ele 
phant,  and  in  this  case  I  don't  know  but  we 
might  be  pitting  Greek  against  Greek,  or 
elephant  against  elephant." 

Mrs.  Estell  laughed  and  so  did  the  Sena 
tor,  but  Estell  drank  his  coffee  in  silence. 
The  subject  was  permitted  to  fall,  but  it  was 
taken  up  again  shortly  afterward,  when  we 
had  lighted  our  cigars  in  the  library. 

"So  you  think  of  going  into  the  show 
business?"  said  the  State  Treasurer,  resting 
his  head  on  the  back  of  his  chair  and  look 
ing  up  at  the  ceiling. 

44  Well,  not  actively,"  the  Senator  replied. 
44  That  is,  I'm  not  to  be  active  in  the  work." 

44  Oh,  I  suppose  it's  all  right,"  admitted 
Estell;  4<but  it's  a  new  line  and  new  lines 
are  dangerous." 

4'  But  if  dangerous,  not  without  interest," 


88  BOLANYO. 

the  Senator  was  quick  to  retort.  "  It's  set 
tled,  at  any  rate.  I'm  going  to  try  it. " 

Mrs.  Estell  had  not  accompanied  us.  I 
heard  her  talking  to  a  dog  in  the  hall,  and  I 
listened  with  pleasure,  for  her  voice  was 
strong,  deep  and  singularly  musical. 

' '  The  next  session  of  the  Legislature  will 
be  a  very  busy  one,  I  am  inclined  to  think, " 
Estell  remarked. 

"Always  is,"  the  Senator  replied,  laugh 
ing.  « '  The  better  part  of  a  new  session  is 
generally  taken  up  with  the  work  of  repeal 
ing  the  laws  passed  by  an  older  Assembly. " 

I  was  wondering  whether  Estell  would 
ever  become  deeply  enough  interested  in 
my  existence  to  warrant  a  straight  look 
from  his  pale  and  abstracted  eye,  when  he 
withdrew  his  gaze  from  the  ceiling,  directed 
it  at  me  and  said  that  he  was  glad  to  see 
me  so  far  advanced  toward  recovery.  It 
was  a  mere  commonplace  which  may  not 
have  arisen  from  a  real  interest,  and  which 
politeness  could  no  longer  defer,  but  it  gave 
me  a  better  opinion  of  him. 


7 '///•:  STATE  TREASURER.  89 

"I  suppose,"  said  I,  not  knowing  what 
else  to  say,  "  that  you  find  your  occupation 
one  of  almost  painful  exactness." 

I  think  that  he  gave  me  a  look  of  con 
tempt.  I  am  quite  sure  that,  if  he  did  not, 
his  eye  failed  him  of  his  intention. 

"I  wouldn't  stay  there  ten  minutes  if  it 
meant  play,'  he  replied,  and  turning  to  the 
Senator  he  said:  "Saw  old  Dan  Hilliard 
the  other  day." 

"No!"  the  Senator  exclaimed.  "You 
don't  mean  old  Dan  Hilliard." 

"Yes,  I  do— old  Dan  Hilliard." 

"Hanged  if  I  didn't  think  he  was  dead. 
Well,  I'll  swear!  Old  Dan  Hilliard!  Humph! 
Why,  I  met  his  wife  one  day  about  three 
years  ago  and  she  told  me  that  Dan  was 
dying,  that  he  couldn't  live  till  night.  Now 
what  do  you  suppose  he  wanted  to  get  well 
for? " 

"To  distress  his  friends,  I  reckon.  Want 
ed  to  get  five  dollars  from  me,  and  said  if 
I'd  give  him  the  money  you  would  pay  him 
back." 


90  BOLANYO. 

My  eyes  with  wandering  about  the  room 
alighted  on  two  foils,  crossed  above  a  book 
case.  I  was  right.  The  young  woman  had 
taken  fencing  lessons.  And  just  at  that 
moment  she  entered  the  room,  a  great  dog 
following  her.  At  the  door  she  turned  about 
to  drive  him  back.  He  tried  to  spring  by 
her;  she  caught  him,  lifted  him  from  the 
floor  and  with  a  swing  she  tumbled  him  out 
into  the  hall. 

4 'What  are  you  doing?"  the  Treasurer 
cried,  with  a  nervous  jump;  and  the  Sena 
tor,  who  sat  facing  the  door,  fell  back  with 
a  laugh  so  full  of  contagion  that  I  caught  it 
before  I  had  time  to  strengthen  my  gravity 
with  the  reflection  that  I  might  give  Estell 
a  cause  to  think  that  I  was  intruding  myself 
into  a  family  affair. 

' '  I  am  teaching  old  Tiger  to  behave  him 
self, "  she  replied,  with  a  smile. 

' '  I  thought  you  had  knocked  down  a 
steer,"  said  Estell,  settling  himself  in  his 
rocking  chair.  He  shut  his  eyes,  and  to  me 
he  looked  like  a  man  who  longed  for  rest, 


THE  STATE   TREASURER.  91 

but  who  had  almost  despaired  of  finding  it. 
"Florence,"  he  spoke  up,  opening  his  eyes 
and  slightly  turning  his  head  toward  her, 
"see  if  you  can  find  my  slippers,  please. 
You  needn't  go  yourself, "  he  added.  ' '  Send 
for  them." 

"I  don't  know  where  they  are,  and  no 
body  else  can  find  them,"  she  replied;  and 
hastening  out,  she  ran  up  the  stairs,  hum 
ming  an  undefinable  tune. 

"Tom,"  said  the  Senator,  "you  have 
about  worn  yourself  out.  Why  don't  you 
go  off  somewhere? " 

"Can't — haven't  time." 

"That's  the  biggest  fallacy  that  man  ever 
introduced  as  an  economy.  Did  you  ever 
know  a  man  too  busy  to  die? " 

"No,  but  I  sometimes  think  I  am." 

* '  Why  don't  you  give  up  the  infernal  of 
fice?  Nothing  in  it,  anyway. " 

' '  Why  don't  you  give  up  your  infernal 
office?" 

"What!  "  cried  the  Senator,  and  he  began 
to  run  his  fingers  through  his  beard.  ' '  Now 


92  BOLANYO. 

that  would  be  a  devil  of  a  come  off,  wouldn't 
it!  How  is  a  State  to  get  along  without 
laws?  Hah!  Look  at  the  measures  that 
owe  their  origin  to  me.  Tom,  it's  all  right 
to  be  tired,  but  it's  dangerous  to  trample  on 
common  sense.  Why  don't  I  give  up  my 
office,  indeed!  Now  what  could  have  put 
that  fool  notion  into  your  head?  Have  you 
heard  anybody  say  that  I  ought  to  give  it 
up?  If  you  have,  out  with  it,  and  I'll  make 
him  produce  his  cause  or  eat  his  words. 
Out  with  it." 

' '  Oh,  I  don't  know  that  I've  heard  any 
body  say  that  you  ought  to  give  it  up,"  Es- 
tell  replied,  opening  his  eyes,  but  closing 
them  again  before  he  had  completed  the 
sentence. 

"You  don't  knoiv  that  you  have,"  the 
Senator  retorted,  twisting  his  beard  to  a 
sharp  and  fierce-looking  point.  "  Estell, 
old  fellow,  there  are  times  for  joking,  but 
this  is  not  one  of  them.  I  make  no  ob 
jection  to  fair  and  honorable  criticism,  Sir; 
you  know  that.  I  grant  every  man  the  right 


THE  STATE  TREASURER.  93 

to  pass  upon  my  acts  in  office — in  office,  un 
derstand;  but  when  a  man  says  I  ought  to 
resign,  why  he  must  show  cause,  or  I'll  stuff 
him  like  a  sausage  with  his  own  garrulity. 
That's  me,  Estell,  and  you  know  it." 

"Talcom,  I  reckon  that's  you.  But  now 
to  be  exact,  I  haven't  heard  anybody  say 
you  ought  not  to  be  in  office. " 

* '  Good  enough,  Tom.  It's  all  right.  Yes, 
Sir,  it's  all  right,"  said  the  Statesman,  with 
no  trace  of  his  recent  disquiet,  but  with 
pleasant,  kindly  eyes  and  a  countenance 
made  smooth  by  the  justice  of  his  cause  and 
the  pride  with  which  he  regarded  his  deter 
mination  to  defend  his  good  name.  "  But, 
Tom,  you  really  need  rest.  Oh,  of  course, 
I  don't  mean  that  you  should  give  up  public 
life.  No,  Sir,"  he  went  on,  looking  at  me, 
"when  a  man  has  once  been  a  servant  of 
the  people,  he  is  never  satisfied  to  fall  back 
among  the  powerless  'masters.'  And,  Sir — 
of  course  it  wouldn't  do  to  say  it  everywhere, 
but  I  will  say  it  here  in  confidence — I  have 
often  looked  at  some  poor,  obscure  devil 


94  BOLANYO. 

and  have  said  to  myself,  *  Why  the  deuce 
do  you  want  to  live?  You  can't  possibly 
enjoy  yourself,  for  nobody  pays  any  atten 
tion  to  you.'" 

And  then  spoke  a  voice  at  the  door.  I 
looked  around  and  there  Mrs.  Estell  stood, 
holding  a  slipper  in  each  hand,  her  arms 
hanging  limp.  I  did  not  catch  the  words 
she  uttered  first,  but  these  I  heard  and  al 
ways  shall  remember:  "And  perhaps  he 
has  a  wife  who  worships  him,  and  children 
that  think  he's  a  god.  And  if  I  were  a  man 
I  would  rather  be  in  his  place  than  to  have 
a  world  of  flattery." 

With  a  swift  step  and  a  graceful  bend  she 
laid  the  slippers  at  her  husband's  feet.  The 
Senator  clapped  his  hands  and  so  did  I,  but 
Estell  neither  moved  nor  opened  his  eyes 
until  he  heard  the  slippers  tap  upon  the  floor, 
and  then  he  turned  his  head  to  say,  "I'm 
much  obliged  to  you." 

And  at  that  moment  she  broke  away  from 
the  soft  and  dignifying  influences  of  a  South 
ern  atmosphere;  she  sprang  upon  a  chair, 


THE  STATE  TREASURER.  95 

snatched  the  foils  from  the  wall,  laid  one  of 
them  across  my  knees,  sprang  back  and  with 
mock  tragedy  cried,  "  Defend  yourself. "  But 
before  I  could  get  out  of  my  astonishment 
to  say  a  word,  and  as  the  dull  eyes  of  her 
husband  looked  up  sharp  with  surprise,  she 
bowed  with  a  condescending  grace  and  with 
mimic  magnanimity  threw  down  the  foil  and 
said:  "Ah,  I  forgot.  You  are  wounded 
and  a  prisoner." 

The  Senator  looked  on  with  pride;  his 
face  glowed  and  his  eyes  snapped,  but  Estell 
grunted:  "Mr.  er-er-Belford,"  he  began, 
again  becoming  vaguely  conscious  that  I  was 
on  the  face  of  the  earth,  "the  Senator  had 
no  son;  and  that  explains  why  he  made 
a  tomboy  of  his  daughter."  He  laughed 
weakly  as  he  said  this,  and  as  a  piece  of 
good  humor  it  was  a  failure,  but  it  proved 
to  me  that  he  was  not  wholly  ill-natured. 

"That's  all  right,"  the  Senator  replied, 
with  his  eyes  on  Mrs.  Estell,  who  had  again 
mounted  a  chair  to  replace  the  foils  on  the 
wall.  "That's  all  right,  but  her  tomboy- 


96  BOLANYO. 

ishness  has  made  her  decidedly  human,  and, 
Sir,"  he  added,  as  the  young  woman  stepped 
down,  "I  guess  she  succeeded  in  winning 
the  love  of  one  of  the  best  men  in  the  State. 
Eh.  How's  that,  old  fellow?" 

"  Not  quite  so  bad  as  I  expected,"  Estell 
answered,  rousing  up.  '  *  You  could  have 
studied  longer  and  framed  it  worse.  By  the 
way,  Mr.  Belmont — " 

"Belford,"  his  wife  suggested,  standing 
with  her  hands  resting  on  the  back  of  his 
chair. 

"  Yes,  thank  you.  But,  by  the  way,  Mr. 
Belford,  where  are  you  from,  Sir?  I  take  it 
that  you  are  not  a  Southern  man." 

' '  I  was  born  near  the  old  city  of  Chester, 
England,"  I  answered.  "But  I  came  to 
this  country  when  a  boy.  And  among  Amer 
icans  I  sometimes  assert  that  I'm  English, 
but  among  Englishmen  I  am  often  proud  to 
say  that  I  am  an  American." 

"Good  enough,"  said  the  Senator. 
"First  rate.  That's  all  you  need  to  say 
around  here,  Sir.  Our  most  famous  orator, 


THE  STATE  TREASURER.  97 

S.  S.  Prentiss,  used  to  say,  when  re 
proached  with  the  fact  that  he  was  not 
born  in  Mississippi,  that  any  fool  could 
have  been  born  here,  but  that  he  had  sense 
enough  to  come  to  the  State  of  his  own 
accord.  Belford,  we've  had  some  great 
orators.  We've  had  men,  Sir,  that  could 
make  you  laugh  at  your  own  sorrow  and 
then  compel  you  to  look  with  grief  upon 
your  own  laughter.  But  they  are  gone, 
Sir."  He  got  up  and  stood  with  one  hand 
thrust  into  his  bosom.  "They  are  gone, 
and  the  world  will  never  look  upon  their 
like  again.  Why,  Sir,  Prentiss,  with  his 
oration  on  starving  Ireland,  made  the  whole 
world  weep.  Ah,  and  who  makes  it  weep 
now?  It  does  not  weep,  for  there  is  a 
measure  of  relief  in  tears.  It  groans,  and 
in  a  groan  there  is  no  sentiment — the  groan 
is  the  language  of  despair.  The  oppress 
ive  corporation,  the  heartless  money  grabber 
—but  I  won't  talk  about  it,"  he  broke  off, 
sitting  down  and  running  his  fingers  through 
his  beard. 


98  BOLANYO. 

"Yes,  it's  bad,"  Estell  drawled,  "but 
what  are  we  going  to  do  about  it,  heigho?" 
he  yawned.  "You  people  may  discuss  the 
ills  of  the  world,  but  I'm  going  up-stairs 
and  take  a  nap." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

PUBLIC    ENTERTAINERS. 

EARLY  the  next  day  the  Senator 
and  I  went  down  to  look  at  the 
opera  house.  It  was  about  midway 
in  a  block  that  faced  the  public 
square.  Of  course  there  was  nothing  at 
tractive  in  its  outward  appearance,  and  I 
expected  to  find  a  raw  interior,  but  I  was 
more  than  happily  surprised.  The  audi 
torium  was  well  appointed,  the  chairs  were 
of  the  best  and  the  decorations  were  mod 
est  and  artistic.  I  felt  that  it  was  only  the 
poorest  of  management  that  could  have 
brought  about  the  financial  failure  of  the 
house.  And  now  that  I  had  seen  the  place 
there  arose  a  fear  that  the  agent  might  set 
the  price  too  high.  But  when  we  called 
upon  him  the  Senator  explained  with  so 

99 


ioo  BOLANYO. 

many  gestures  intended  to  depress  him,  and 
with  so  many  shrewd  words  thrown  out  to 
convince  him  that  we  came  as  benefact 
ors,  that  he  soon  was  willing  to  accept 
our  terms.  The  papers  were  drawn  up  at 
once. 

"And,  now,  by  the  way,"  said  the  Sen 
ator,  "I  don't  want  to  be  known  in  this 
transaction,  for,  come  to  think  it  over,  there 
are  many  people  in  my  senatorial  district 
who  hold  a  prejudice  against  the  show  busi 
ness.  So  I'll  be  a  silent  partner,  and  a 
mighty  silent  one,  I  want  you  to  under 
stand." 

The  agent  said  that  he  understood,  and 
the  Senator  continued:  "The  editor  of 
that  mongrel  sheet,  the  Times,  would  twist 
this  thing  out  of  all  shape,  Sir.  He  would 
fight  the  house  to  injure  me,  and  he'd  jump 
on  me  to  hurt  the  house.  Mr.  Belford  here 
will  be  the  manager,  and  I  guess  he  knows 
all  about  it. " 

I  was  forced  to  tell  him  that  I  was  not  a 
business  man,  that  I  could  secure  the  at- 


PUBLIC  ENTERTAINERS.-  ioi 

tractions,  but  that  he  must  see  that  the 
books  were  kept  properly.  "  That's  all 
right,"  he  said.  "I  can't  do  it  myself,  but 
I'll  take  them  home  and  turn  them  over  to 
my  daughter.  She  may  not  know  how 
to  keep  them  in  the  regular  way,  but  you 
may  gamble  that  they'll  be  kept  right." 

I  agreed  to  this,  but  as  we  were  going 
out  the  thought  occurred  to  me  that  Estell 
might  object. 

"Oh,  that  will  be  all  right,"  the  Senator 
declared  when  I  spoke  of  it.  "He  may 
not  be  taken  with  the  idea,  but  it  will  give 
Florence  a  practical  thing  to  think  about, 
and  he  can  see  that  it  will  be  good  for  her." 

"But  if  it's  just  the  same  to  you,  Sen 
ator,  I'd  rather  you  wouldn't  speak  to  him 
about  it  when  I'm  present.  Even  the 
slightest  objection  on  his  part  would  be 
embarrassing  to  me." 

"You  are  right,  Belford,  and  I  appreci 
ate  your  sensitiveness.  Yes,  Sir,  you  are 
right.  But  he  won't  object." 

As  we  drew  near  to  the  house  we  saw  Es- 


102  BOLANYO. 

tell  standing  under  a  walnut  tree.  "Go  on 
in,"  said  the  Senator,  "and  I  will  have  a 
talk  with  him.  It's  a  matter  of  no  impor 
tance,  you  understand.  We  can  hire  a  man 
to  keep  the  books.  But  I'll  speak  to  him." 

I  passed  on  into  the  library.  The  dog, 
that  had  presumed  to  disobey  the  mistress 
of  the  house,  lay  stretched  upon  the  floor, 
and  as  I  entered  he  looked  up  contemptu 
ously,  and  then  to  all  appearances  resurned 
his  nap.  Presently  Mrs.  Estell  came  in. 

"You  are  back  early,"  she  said.  "What 
are  you  doing  here?"  This  was  spoken  to 
the  dog.  He  raised  his  head  and  gave  her 
an  appealing  look.  "They  want  you  out 
there  to  catch  a  chicken  to  send  to  a  sick 
man." 

The  dog  brightened,  jumped  up  and  trot 
ted  out,  and  soon  a  squawk  and  a  command 
from  a  negro  woman  announced  that  he  had 
done  his  work. 

"It  is  all  arranged, "  I  said. 

"I  knew  it  would  be, "she  replied.  "My 
father  gets  nearly  everything  he  goes  after. " 


PUBLIC  ENTERTAINERS.  103 

44  And  he  is  now  after  Mr.  Estell,  to  get 
his  consent — 

"Consent!"  she  broke  in.  "Consent 
about  what?" 

"Why,  the  Senator  thought  it  would  be 
a  good  idea  to  bring  the  books  up  here  and 
let  you  keep  them." 

"I'd  like  that.  It  would  give  me  some 
thing  to  think  about." 

"That's  what  your  father  said." 

"Oh,  and  he's  gone  to  ask  Mr.  Estell. 
He  won't  care.  He  may  object  at  first — 
he  objects  to  nearly  everything  at  first." 

"I  don't  believe  he  takes  to  me  very 
kindly,"  I  ventured  to  remark. 

She  laughed.  "Oh,  he  doesn't  take  to 
anyone  at  first.  I  had  known  him  ever 
since  I  was  a  child,  and  I  was  grown  before 
he  appeared  to  think  anything  of  me.  But 
he  doesn't  seem  a  bit  like  his  old  self.  He 
used  to  be  lively  and  liked  to  go  out,  but 
now  he's  worried  all  the  time  and  doesn't 
care  to  go  anywhere.  I  don't  know  what's 
the  trouble  with  him,  I'm  sure.  Isn't  that 


104  BOLANYO. 

a  pretty  little  theatre?  And  what  do  you 
think  of  the  prospects?  Don't  you  think 
they're  good?  I  do." 

"So  do  I.  The  town  is  large  enough, 
and  I  believe  we  can  make  the  venture 
pay." 

"I'm  sure  of  it,"  she  said.  "It  has 
never  been  managed  properly.  None  but 
the  poorest  plays  came  here,  and  no  won 
der  it  failed.  I  do  hope  it  will  be  a  success. 
It  will  give  father  something  new  to  talk 
about.  I'm  so  tired  of  politics.  Always 
the  same  thing,  anxiety  and  treachery  and 
everything  unpleasant.  Mr.  Estell  was 
offered  an  excellent  place  in  a  New  Orleans 
bank,  some  time  ago,  and  I  begged  him  to 
take  it,  but  he  wouldn't.  And  I  can't  un 
derstand  why.  There's  no  money  and  no 
particular  honor  in  the  place  he  has  now. 
But  you  would  think  his  life  depended  on 
it.  He  had  strong  opposition  at  the  last 
election,  and  I  thought  he'd  go  wild.  Here 
they  come." 

The   Senator  slyly  winked  at  me  as  he 


PUBLIC  ENTERTAINERS.  105 

entered  the  room.  But  Estell  did  not  ap 
pear  to  see  me  until  he  had  sat  down,  and 
then  he  looked  at  me  and  said: 

4 '  You  and  Talcom  are  trying  to  involve 
the  whole  family  in  that  show  enterprise, 
eh?" 

4 'We'd  like  to  involve  the  whole  com 
munity  in  it,"  I  answered. 

''Yes.  And  it  would  be  a  nice  thing  for 
a  friend  to  meet  me  and  say:  'Helloa, 
Estell,  understand  your  wife,  the  former 
belle  of  Bolanyo,  is  keeping  books  for  a 
show.'" 

"If  you  object,  Mr.  Estell,"  I  began, 
but  he  shut  me  off. 

"Object?  Why,  I  don't  object  to  any 
thing  that  Talcom  does.  What's  the  use? 
Oh,  it's  all  right.  And  I  suppose  we'll 
have  show  bills  pasted  up  all  over  the 
house.  Might  take  a  few  of  them  to  Jack 
son  with  me  and  stick  'em  up  in  the  Treas 
urer's  office;  might  get  the  Governor  to  put 
up  a  few  in  the  Executive  Chambers.  And 


io6  BOLANYO. 

I  know  the  walls  of  the  Senate  will  be  lined 
with  them." 

I  was  about  to  say  something  in  resent 
ment  of  this  dry  ridicule  when  the  Senator 
looked  at  me  with  a  comedian's  squint  of 
the  eye.  "Oh,  yes,"  said  he,  "and  we'll 
have  the  Governor  issue  a  proclamation 
commanding  all  the  State  officers  to  attend 
our  performances.  By  the  way,  he  is  a 
bachelor.  We'll  marry  him  to  a — " 

"Soubrette,"  I  suggested,  to  help  him 
out.  The  Senator  laughed  and  Estell 
chuckled  wearily  as  his  wife,  in  her  good 
humor,  shook  his  chair.  Dating  from  this 
trifling  incident  the  Treasurer  appeared  to 
like  me  better;  at  least,  he  paid  me  more 
attention,  and  at  dinner  he  told  a  joke 
(which  the  Senator  afterward  informed  me 
was  his  favorite  bit  of  humor),  and  I 
laughed  as  if  I  really  enjoyed  it.  I  felt 
more  kindly  toward  him,  but  the  eye  of 
prejudice  made  him  old,  for  constantly  I 
wondered  how  she  could  ever  have  given 
her  consent  to  marry  him.  I  had  been 


PUBLIC  ENTERTAINERS.  107 

told,  by  the  Senator,  I  think,  that  his  fam 
ily  was  high,  that  his  people  were  once  of 
the  great  and  lordly  set  of  the  South,  and  of 
course  I  knew  that  in  the  marriage  arrange 
ment  the  name  of  family  meant  more  than 
mental  or  physical  suitability;  and  yet  I 
could  not  rid  myself  of  the  belief  that  a 
violence  had  been  committed  against  senti 
ment  the  day  she  gave  her  hand  to  her 
father's  friend. 

After  dinner  the  Senator  and  I  went  into 
the  library  to  talk  over  our  venture,  and 
Estell  trod  heavily  up  the  stairs  to  take  his 
nap.  I  wondered  whether  his  wife  were 
coming  with  us.  She  did  not;  she  went 
out  into  the  magnolia  garden;  and  through 
the  window  I  watched  her  as  she  walked 
about  beneath  the  trees.  To  me  she  was 
such  a  picture,  so  lithe  a  piece  of  Nature's 
art,  that  in  my  study  of  her  I  did  not  think 
of  a  danger  that  might  lie  in  wait  for  me; 
but  in  matters  that  tend  to  lead  the  heart 
astray  we  rarely  think  until  too  late  and 
then  each  thought  is  an  added  pain. 


io8  BOLANYO. 

The  Senator  was  saying  something  and  I 
looked  around  at  him.  "Yes,  Sir,  I  think 
we'll  run  all  right.  Bound  to  if  we  put  our 
energies  into  it.  Let's  see;  you'll  have  to 
go  North  and  book  the  attractions,  won't 
you?" 

"Yes,  I  ought  to,  but  it's  now  almost  too 
far  along  in  the  season.  It  would  involve 
considerable  expense,  and  I  think  that  the 
best  plan  is  to  do  my  best  with  correspond 
ence  and  take  it  in  time  next  year." 

"Shouldn't  wonder  but  you  are  right. 
Yes,  and  that  will  give  you  time  to  work 
on  your  play.  It  will  be  quite  a  feather  in 
our  cap  to  have  a  play  written  by  our  man 
ager." 

"Yes,  a  successful  play,"  I  replied. 

"Oh,  don't  you  worry  about  that.  We'll 
make  it  a  success  all  right  enough,  for  we've 
got  the  characters  here  under  our  gaze. " 

"And  the  notorious  Bugg  Peters  is  one 
of  them,"  I  suggested. 

He  began  to  run  his  fingers  through  his 
beard.  "Well,  I  don't  know  about  that, 


PUBLIC  ENTER  TAINERS.  109 

Belford.  It  doesn't  seem  to  me,  though, 
that  we  ought  to  mar  a  play  with  as  trifling 
a  fellow  as  he  is.  Why,  that  fellow  is  no 
account  on  the  face  of  the  earth!  Why, 
he's  common!  And,  Sir,  the  people  wouldn't 
go  to  see  a  play  that  had  him  in  it.  We 
can  get  better  material,  honorable  and  up 
right  men,  Sir.  Why,  he'd  take  all  the 
dignity  out  of  it;  he'd  bring  ridicule  on  the 
South.  By  gracious,  Sir,  they'd  think  that 
he's— he's  real!" 

"Well,  but  isn't  he?" 

"Oh,  in  a  way,  yes.  But  he's  not  a 
representative  man,  you  understand;  and  I 
want  to  tell  you,  Belford,  that  the  stage  is 
in  need  of  representative  men.  Why,  Sir, 
every  newspaper  is  talking  about  the  eleva 
tion  of  the  stage,  the  need  of  it,  mind  you; 
and  I  don't  see  how  you  can  elevate  the 
stage  if  you  put  such  men  as  Bugg  Peters 
on  it.  Why,  confound  his  hide,  do  you 
know  there's  not  a  bigger  liar  in  this  State? 
And  do  you  know  that  he  owes  me? — well, 
I  won't  attempt  to  say  how  much.  We'll 


no  BOLANYO. 

give  him  wheat,  Sir,  to  keep  him  and  his 
shaking  sons-in-law  from  starving,  but  we 
cannot — I  repeat — we  cannot  put  him  on 
our  stage.  It's  nothing  to  laugh  at,  Belford. 
It's  a  serious  matter.  I'll  show  you  some 
characters — I'll  find  them  for  you.  Why, 
here's  Washington.  Come  in,  come  in." 

The  preacher  came  forward  and  stood 
gravely  looking  down  upon  us.  '  *  Sit  down, " 
said  the  Senator.  "That  is,  unless  Mr. 
Belford  objects,"  he  added,  looking  at  me 

"Why  should  I  object?"  I  asked,  in  sur 
prise. 

"Oh,  some  people  object  to — " 

* '  A  negro  sitting  down  in  the  presence  of 
white  gentlemen,  unless  he  drops  his  hat  at 
the  door  and  then  sits  on  a  trunk  or  a  box," 
Washington  spoke  up,  smiling.  "But," 
he  added,  "the  Senator  is  more  liberal. 
However,  I  do  not  wish  to  sit  down.  I 
have  come  on  an  important  errand." 

"Ah,  ha!  How  much  do  you  need?"  the 
Senator  inquired. 

The  preacher  roared  with  as  genuine  a 


PUBLIC  ENTER  TAINERS.  1 1 1 

laugh  as  ever  was  blown  across  a  cotton 
field. 

"We  don't  need  so  very  much,"  he  said, 
his  gravity  returning  with  a  suddenness  that 
made  him  appear  almost  ridiculously  solemn. 
"We  need  something,  however,  and  when 
our  own  resources  had  fallen  short,  I  told 
my  brethren  that  I  knew  where  to  come. 
The  truth  is,  we  need  a  new  bell  for  the 
church,  and  lack  twenty-five  dollars  of  hav 
ing  enough  to  pay  for  it." 

"A  new  bell!  Why,  what's  the  matter 
with  the  old  one?" 

"It  is  cracked,  Sir." 

"Cracked!  Why  I'll  bet  a  thousand  dol 
lars  you  can  hear  it  fifteen  miles.  Why 
don't  you  take  the  money  that  a  bell  would 
cost  and  give  it  to  the  poorer  members  of 
your  congregation?" 

"The  poor  we  have  with  us  always,  Sen 
ator.  We  need  a  new  bell." 

"Yes,  and  you'll  ring  it  at  all  times  of 
night  and  keep  me  awake.  Why  do  they 
have  to  be  rung,  too,  so  much?  Hang  me,  if  I 


H2  BOLANYO. 

don't  believe  you've  got  one  old  fellow  over 
there  that  gets  up  and  rings  it  in  his  sleep; 
and  many  a  time  I've  felt  like  filling  his 
black  hide  with  shot.  When  do  you  want 
the  devilish  thing?" 

* '  You  mean  the  bell,  Sir?" 

"Yes.     When  do  you  have  to  get  it?" 

* '  It  has  been  ordered  and  it  must  be  paid 
for  on  its  arrival." 

"Oh,  you've  ordered  it.  Well,  now,  if 
you  hadn't  ordered  it  you'd  never  Ve  got  a 
cent  out  of  me.  Don't  believe  I've  got  that 
much  money  about  me,"  he  added,  stretch 
ing  out  his  leg  and  thrusting  his  hand  into  his 
pocket,  to  draw  forth  a  roll  of  bank  notes; 
and  on  beholding  this  great  display  of  wealth 
the  negro's  thick  eyelids  snapped.  "Here 
you  are,"  said  the  Senator,  giving  him  the 
sum  required.  "And  you  tell  that  old  fel 
low  that  if  he  rings  the  new  bell  in  his  sleep, 
he'll  wake  up  with  his  black  hide  full  of 
shot. " 

' '  Thank  you,  Senator.  You  mean  Brother 
Sampson,  Sir?" 


PUBLIC  ENTER  TAINERS.  1 1 3 

41  Hah?  Sampson?  I  don't  know  his  name, 
but  I  guess  Sampson's  about  right.  Wait 
a  minute.  Mr.  Belford  is  going  to  remain 
with  us.  He  is  going  to  take  charge  of  the 
theatre  here,  and  in  going  about  the  neigh 
borhood  you  may  tell  the  people  that  we 
are — I  say  we  because  I  want  to  see  the 
town  well  entertained — tell  the  people  that 
they  are  to  have  a  series  of  the  finest  enter 
tainments  ever  known  in  this  part  of  the 
country.  And,  by  the  way,  Belford,  I  for 
got  to  speak  of  it,  but  you'd  better  board 
here  at  the  house." 

I  looked  up  to  meet  the  negro's  eyes; 
a  stare  of  blunt  rebuke,  as  if  the  proposal 
had  come  from  me,  in  violation  of  a  com 
pact  made  with  him.  I  caught  a  vision  of 
Mrs.  Estell  as  I  had  seen  her  through  the 
window,  walking  beneath  the  magnolia  trees ; 
I  heard  the  warning  voice  of  reason,  and  I 
saw  lurking  in  ambush  the  sweetest  and 
perhaps  the  deadliest  of  all  dangers.  I  had 
seen  much  of  the  immorality  of  life,  of  pas 
sion  that  knew  no  law,  but  not  for  a  mo- 
8 


114  BOLANYO. 

ment  did  there  live  in  my  mind  a  suspicion 
that  this  woman  could  forget  the  exact 
ing  demands  of  a  matron's  duty.  I  felt  that 
the  danger  lay  for  me  alone;  that  the  warm 
and  sympathetic  relationship  of  friend  of  the 
family  and  partner  of  the  father  would  es 
tablish  me  almost  as  a  member  of  the  house 
hold;  that  a  sisterly  regard  would  at  most 
define  the  depth  of  the  interest  that  she 
could  take  in  my  affairs,  and  even  this  must 
come  with  slow  and  almost  unconscious 
ripening.  It  was  true  that  I  had  come  a 
stranger,  that  an  old  community,  and  es 
pecially  in  the  South,  is  skeptical  of  a  new 
man's  respectability,  but  I  had  fallen  help 
less  upon  their  hospitality,  and  my  misfor 
tune  was  stronger  than  an  introduction. 

It  did  not  seem  that  I  had  time  to  reason 
as  I  sat  there  encountering  the  gaze  of  that 
black  agent  of  a  moral  code;  my  reflections 
might  have  come  like  flying  splinters,  but 
as  I  look  back  and  again  bring  up  the  scene, 
I  feel  that  they  must  have  fallen  as  one  im 
pression,  a  cold  and  benumbing  weight. 


PUBLIC  ENTERTAINERS.  115 

"It  will  be  a  long  walk  out  here  for 
Mr.  Belford,  and  he  has  not  regained  his 
strength,"  the  negro  said,  still  gazing  at  me. 

"  Nonsense!  "  the  Senator  replied;  "He 
will  be  as  strong  as  a  buck  in  a  day  or  two, 
and,  besides,  he  is  used  to  his  room  out  here 
and  might  as  well  keep  it.  Confound  your 
impudence,  Washington,  you  always  oppose 
me." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Senator." 

4 'That's  all  right,  but  I'm  going  to  have 
my  own  way  about  my  own  affairs.  Do 
you  understand?" 

"  Better  than  you  think,  Sir." 

"What's  that?" 

"  I  mean  that  I  understand  perfectly." 

"Well,  say  what  you  mean." 

"Senator,"  said  I,  "he  is  right.  I'd  bet 
ter  get  a  room  down  town.  Walking  in 
and  out — and  I  couldn't  think  of  riding — 
would  take  up  too  much  of  my  time,  and  I 
expect  to  be  very  busy  after  the  season 
opens." 

"Well,  now,  there  may  be  something  in 


n6  BOLANYO. 

that.  Yes,  Sir,  there's  a  good  deal  to  be 
attended  to.  Suit  yourself.  Perhaps  it  would 
be  better.  Washington,  you  go  on  and  pay 
for  your  diabolical  arrangement  to  keep  me 
awake. " 

The  negro  bowed  and  gave  me  a  look, 
but  not  of  victory — of  gratitude. 


CHAPTER   X. 

MR.   PETTICORD. 

EARLY  the  next  day  I  was  formally 
installed  as  manager  of  the  Bolan- 
yo  Opera  House.      The  Senator  di 
rected  the  ceremony,  marking  long 
meter  with  his  hat,  and  by  his  solemn  mien 
appearing  to  demand  of  me  a  serious  and 
majestic  chant,  the  tune  of  Old  Hundred, 
to  express  a  deep  sense  of    my  responsibil 
ity — a  mere  fancy,  of  course;  but  as  a  mat 
ter  of  fact,  he  did  seem  to  believe  that  we 
ought  to  make  a  sentiment  of  this  common 
place  and    businesslike  procedure.      But   I 
told  him  that  we  would  wave  the  rights  of 
a  mysterious  incantation  and  look  upon  the 
affair  as  a  commercial  transaction. 

44 Yes,    of   course,"   he  said.     "But    you 
know  there  has  always  been  a  sort  of  mys- 
117 


n8  BOLANYO. 

tery  about  the  stage.  It  holds  us  to  the 
past,  makes  us  children,  afraid  of  ghosts. 
It  has  a  peculiar  smell;  and  one  thing  about 
it  is,  that  all  the  people  on  the  stage  seem 
to  be  foreigners,  it  makes  no  difference  how 
well  you  may  have  been  acquainted  with 
them.  I  don't  know  that  it's  true  in  all 
cases.  Come  to  think  of  it,  you  don't  seem 
strange  to  me. " 

"There  has  always  been  a  prejudice 
against  the  stage,  in  England  and  America," 
I  replied.  "Our  race  cannot  associate  art 
and  religion,  when,  in  fact,  there's  true  re 
ligion  in  every  phase  of  art." 

"Well,  now,  I  don't  know  about  that, 
Belford.  The  Pagans  worshiped  idols  and 
some  of  their  idols  were  works  of  art,  but 
there  was  no  true  religion  in  that.  But  be 
that  as  it  may,  we're  going  to  make  a  suc 
cess  of  this  thing." 

A  number  of  boys,  having  scented  an  un 
usual  activity,  were  hanging  about  the  door, 
and  one  of  them  made  bold  to  ask  if  there 
was  going  to  be  a  show.  The  Senator 


AfR.  PETTICORD.  119 

answered  him.  "Yes,  there  is,  my  little 
man,  and  we'll  want  you  to  take  around 
some  bills  when  it  comes,  next  fall.  Whose 
son  are  you,  anyway?" 

"Mr.  Vark's." 

"Oh,  yes,  the  shoemaker  down  stairs. 
Well,  run  along  now." 

The  boys  scampered  off,  and  the  Senator, 
looking  about,  declared  that  we  were  mak 
ing  great  progress.  "Yes,  Sir,  we'll  coin 
money  here;  and  do  you  know,  Belford,  I 
am  beginning  to  believe  that  money  is  a 
pretty  good  thing  after  all?  Yes,  Sir,  I 
have  about  arrived  at  that  conclusion.  It 
won't  take  a  man  to  Heaven,  but  it  arms 
him  against  a  hell  on  earth.  Let  me  see, 
there  was  something  else  I  intended  to  say. 
Oh,  yes.  Now  it's  all  right  to  be  friendly 
with  everybody,  but  intimacy  is  a  dangerous 
thing.  Encourage  it  and  the  first  thing  you 
know  the  loafers  about  town  will  begin  to 
call  you  by  your  first  name.  That  kills  a 
man  if  he's  in  any  sort  of  public  life.  Why. 
Sir,  if  I  had  let  those  fellows  call  me  Giles, 


120  BOLANYO. 

I  couldn't  have  remained  in  the  Senate  more 
than  one  term;  would  have  killed  me,  Sir, 
as  dead  as  a  door  nail.  In  this  human 
family  a  man  thinks  more  of  you  in  the  long 
run  if  you  compel  him  to  bow  to  you  than 
if  you  permit  him  to  put  his  arm  on  your 
shoulder.  Our  natures  respect  exclusive- 
ness.  We  may  make  fun  of  what  we  con 
ceive  to  be  a  groundless  dignity,  but  at  its 
face  we  bow  to  it.  Well,  you  can  now 
begin  your  correspondence.  I  have  put 
money  to  your  credit  at  the  bank,  and 
there's  nothing  to  keep  you  from  going 
ahead.  There  are  some  other  little  details 
that  can  be  arranged  at  our  leisure.  And 
now,  as  to  a  boarding  place.  Our  hotels 
are  not  first  class.  And  here's  what  I  re 
gard  as  a  good  idea.  This  room  off  here 
you  can  fit  up  as  a  sleeping  apartment,  and 
you  can  take  your  meals  at  a  restaurant. 
Suit  you?" 

"  Perfectly.  And  I  want  to  thank  you 
for  your — " 

"Wait  till  the  end  of  next  season,  Sir; 


MR.  PETTICORD.  121 

we  haven't  time  now.  And,  by  the  way,  I 
want  you  to  come  out  to  the  house  as  often 
as  you  can  conveniently.  Just  come  and 
go  as  you  please.  Well,  Mr.  Manager,  I'll 
bid  you  good-morning." 

My  room  was  airy,  and,  proportioned  in 
that  wastefulness  of  space  which  marks  one 
of  the  interior  differences  between  the  town 
and  the  great  city,  it  afforded  the  luxury  of 
many  an  imaginary  path  over  which  I  could 
walk  in  meditation  upon  my  play;  and  that 
piece  of  work  was  uppermost  in  my  mind. 
It  was  my  hope  to  exist  as  a  manager  until 
I  could  pip  the  shell  as  a  dramatist — selfish, 
I  confess;  and  so  is  art  a  selfishness,  and 
so  is  every  high-born  longing  in  the  breast 
of  man.  Indeed,  philanthropy  itself  cannot 
escape  the  accusation :  To  give  to  the  needy 
awakens  the  applause  of  the  conscience. 

A  slight  tapping  attracted  my  attention, 
and  looking  round  I  saw  standing  in  the 
doorway  a  tall,  gaunt  man  with  a  beard  so 
red  as  to  shoot  out  the  suggestion  that  it 
had  been  put  on  hot  and  that  sufficient  time 


122  BOLANYO. 

had  not  elapsed  for  it  to  cool.  I  invited 
him  in;  and,  stepping  forward,  he  handed  me 
a  card  on  which  in  black  type  and  with  heavy 
impression  was  printed  the  name  Lucian  C. 
Petticord,  followed  by  the  information  (also 
heavy  and  black)  that  I  was  in  the  presence 
of  the  Editor  of  the  Bolanyo  Daily  Times, 
and  the  enemy  of  Senator  Giles  Talcom. 

' '  Sit  down,  Mr.  Petticord.  Glad  to  meet 
you,"  I  added,  with  lie  number  one. 

" Thank  you,"  he  said,  seating  himself. 
''Match  about  you?" 

I  found  a  match  for  him,  and  lighting  the 
stub  of  a  cigar,  he  said  " Thanks,"  crossed 
his  legs  and  hooked  his  thumbs  in  the  arm- 
holes  of  his  "  vest." 

"How  do  you  like  our  town?"  he  asked. 

"Charming  place,"  I  answered. 

"Used  to  be,  but  hard  times  hit  it  a 
crack  and  it's  been  staggering  ever  since. 
Had  two  banks — one  of  them  failed.  Tough, 
I  tell  you,  but  we'll  come  out  all  right. 
Just  heard  of  your  deal.  Ought  to  make 
the  thing  pay,  I  should  think.  Got  to 


MR.  PETTICORD.  123 

spend  some  little  money,  of  course.  By  the 
way,  is  old  man  Talcom  interested  in  it?" 

4 'Well,  only  as  a  friend,"  I  answered, 
with  lie  number  two. 

4  *  I  heard  he  was.  Always  was  a  sort  of 
a  theatrical  fellow." 

"He  is  a  gentleman,  if  that's  what  you 
mean." 

"Yes,  in  a  way,"  he  drawled.  "Oh,  I 
know  him." 

"Then,  Sir,  you  know  one  of  the  most 
generous  of  men." 

"Yes,  generous  in  a  way.  Pretty  keen, 
though — he's  not  throwing  anything  over 
his  shoulder  this  year,  and  he  didn't  last 
year  either,  for  that  matter." 

"I  didn't  know,"  said  I,  "that  throwing 
a  thing  over  one's  shoulder  was  esteemed  as 
an  example  of  generosity." 

He  rolled  his  cigar  about  between  his 
fiery  lips.  "I  take  it  that  you  know  what 
I  mean, "  he  replied.  « '  I  mean  that  Brother 
Giles  ain't  giving  anything  away  without 
cause." 


124  BOLANYO. 

"Who  is?"  I  asked,  and  I  looked  at  him 
hard,  but,  in  the  vernacular  of  the  neigh 
borhood,  I  did  not  "faze"  him. 

"In  general,  nobody;  and  in  particular, 
not  Brother  Giles.  Well,  ifs  all  right. 
Glad  he  ain't  interested  financially.  Pre 
sume,  however,  he  advanced  you  the  nec 
essary  money." 

"Pardon  me,  but  if  he  did  it  doesn't 
concern  you." 

"Oh,  it's  all  right;  no  business  of  mine 
except  as  a  matter  of  news." 

"But  what  doesn't  concern  the  public  is 
not  news,"  I  replied. 

"No,  that's  a  fact,  but  then,  there  comes 
up  a  difference  of  opinion  as  to  what  does 
concern  the  public."  He  paused  for  a  few 
moments  and  then  continued:  "Thought 
I'd  step  over  and  see  if  I  could  get  an  ad 
from  you.  Do  all  my  own  work  in  that 
line;  do  all  the  editorials  and  write  most  of 
the  local  leaders.  It  keeps  me  busy,  but 
I'm  getting  out  the  best  paper  the  city  ever 


MR.   PETTICORD.  125 

had.  And  my  ad  rates  are  not  high  when 
the  circulation  is  considered." 

"I  shall  give  you  an  advertisement  later 
on,"  said  I,  "but  just  at  present  there 
could  be  no  object  in  it  It's  out  of  season 
and  there's  nothing  to  advertise." 

"But  you'll  want  a  write-up  announcing 
the  change  of  management.  The  people 
will  be  interested  in  it,  you  know." 

"Yes,  but  doesn't  that  very  fact  make  it 
a  piece  of  legitimate  news?" 

4 'Well,  yes,  in  a  way.  But  you  know  I 
can't  afford  to  print  news  for  nothing.  I'm 
not  printing  news  for  my  health,  you  know. 
Write  you  up  in  good  shape  for  ten  dollars." 

It  was  the  easiest  way  out  of  what  ap 
peared  to  be  the  beginning  of  an  unpleasant 
entanglement,  and  I  told  him  that  he  might 
proceed  with  his  "write-up."  It  was  a  sort 
of  bribery,  the  purchase  of  his  good  opin 
ion  in  the  hope  of  securing  his  silence,  for  I 
knew  that  there  must  be  war,  and  perhaps 
a  complete  change  of  geographical  lines,  so 
far  as  I  was  concerned,  if  the  newspaper 


126  BOLANYO. 

should  offensively  associate  the  Senator  and 
the  playhouse.  But  as  I  sat  there,  the 
subject  of  a  " pleasant  interview" — meeting 
smile  with  smile — I  actually  ached  to  kick 
that  red  gargoyle  down  the  stairs. 

"Well,"  he  said,  blowing  the  cigar  stub 
out  of  his  mouth  and  letting  it  fall  where  it 
might,  * '  I'll  get  back  to  work.  Come  over 
sometime." 

' '  Thank  you.  I  may  see  more  of  you 
when  the  season  opens." 

"Guess  that's  right.  Haven't  got  a  cut 
of  yourself,  have  you?" 

"No,  and  I  don't  care  for  one." 

' '  You're  wrong  there ;  good  cut's  a  first- 
rate  thing — catches  the  women,  and  I  want 
to  tell  you  that  unless  you  catch  the  women 
you  don't  catch  anybody.  Well,  good  day." 

Almost  as  soothing  as  a  melody  was  his 
passing  footstep  down  the  stairs.  But  he 
halted,  and  I  heard  him  talking  to  some 
one  who  evidently  was  coming  up.  I  was 
afraid  that  he  had  turned  to  come  back, 
and  I  stood  in  a  tremor  of  dread,  when  in 


MR.  PETTICORD.  127 

stepped  old  Zack  Mason,  the  steamboat 
pilot.  ''Hah,  united  we  stood  and  divided 
we  went  up!"  he  cried,  grasping  my  hand. 
"How  are  you? — first-rate,  I  know.  Oh, 
this  climate  will  bring  a  man  out  of  the 
kinks  if  he  isn't  killed  instantly.  All  this 
atmosphere  needs  is  a  few  minutes'  start. 
A  man  can  grow  a  set  of  new  lungs  down 
here.  How  are  you,  anyway?  Didn't  hurt 
me  much — made  a  trip  since  then  on  a 
snag-boat.  Tickled  to  death  to  see  you 
again.  How  are  you,  anyway?" 

During  all  this  time  he  held  me  with  a 
grip  so  tight  as  to  assure  me  that  not  even 
an  explosion  could  blow  us  apart.  And  when 
ever  I  attempted  to  tell  him  how  I  was,  or 
to  impress  him  with  my  share  of  the  pleas 
ure  derived  from  our  meeting,  he  gripped 
me  tighter,  to  hold  me  under  the  outpour  of 
his  congratulations.  "Felt  like  a  brother 
had  left  me  that  day  when  you  were  snatched 
out  of  my  hand.  Said  to  myself,  as  I  flew 
through  the  air,  'he's  got  a  little  bit  the 
start  of  me  and  I  don't  believe  I'll  ever  see 


128  BOLANYO. 

him  again.'  And  last  night,  when  I  got 
home  and  heard  you  were  around  all  right, 
•  I  went  straight  over  to  old  Jim  Bradley's 
and  swallowed  a  drink  as  long  as  a  pelican's 
neck.  I  want  to  tell  you  that  Jim's  got  the 
stuff  right  there  in  his  house — been  here 
ever  since  the  Mississippi  River  was  a  creek; 
and  he's  got  licker  older  than  Adam's  off 
ox.  And  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do  this 
minute — we'll  go  right  over  there  and  take 
a  snort  as  loud  as  the  sneeze  of  a  hippo 
potamus. " 

By  this  time  I  had  forced  him  back  into 
his  chair,  but  he  showed  such  a  keenness  to 
get  at  me  again  that  I  had  to  remind  him 
that  I  had  been  but  a  short  time  out  of  bed. 

"Well,  now,  I'd  about  forgotten  that," 
he  declared.  "But  I  don't  want  you  to 
handle  me  after  you  get  plum  back  at  your 
self.  You  are  as  strong  as  a  panther  right 
now.  But  that's  neither  here  nor  there. 
The  question  is,  will  you  come  over  with  me 
to  see  old  Jim?  I've  got  a  lay-off  for  about 
a  week,  and  I've  got  to  have  a  little  fun  as 


MA\  PETTICORD.  129 

I  go  along.  Eat,  drink  and  be  merry,  for 
to-morrow  you  may  be  blowed  up.  And 
we'll  see  old  Joe  Vark  over  there.  Joe's  got 
a  shoeshop  right  down  here — best  shoe 
maker  that  ever  pounded  the  hide  of  a  steer 
—works  till  he  gets  ready  to  have  fun,  and 
then  he  whoops  it  up.  He's  smarter  than  a 
serpent,  even  if  he  ain't  always  as  harmless  as 
a  dove.  They  started  a  little  public  library 
here  once,  and  the  first  thing  they  knew  old 
Joe  had  nearly  all  the  books  stacked  up  in 
his  shop;  and  he  read  them,  too.  Come 
on  and  we'll  go  down  to  old  Jim  Bradley 's; 
and  he's  all  right,  too.  What  do  you  say?" 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  I'd  rather  go  with 
you  than  to  do  almost  anything;  it  would 
fit  me  like  a  glove;  but  I  can't.  I've  had  to 
quit.  One  drink  would  mean  a  spree,  and 
that  would  ruin  everything." 

"Yes,  but  here,"  he  insisted,  "the  liquor 
that  Bradley  keeps  won't  put  a  man  off  on 
a  spree.  It's  a  fact.  It  would  take  a  man 
two  weeks  to  get  drunk  on  it,  and  by  that 
time  he'd  have  enough.  Come  on." 
9 


130  BOLANYO. 

"No,  I  can't  go." 

"Well,  if  you  can't  drink  without  taking 
too  much  I'm  the  last  man  in  the  world  to 
persuade  you.  Glad  to  see  you,  anyway. 
And  I  reckon  you're  going  to  give  us  a  first- 
rate  line  of  shows.  Met  the  Senator  just 
now  and  he  told  me.  He's  another  man 
that  can't  drink.  I  can  drink  and  I  can  let 
it  alone — that  is,  I  know  I  can  drink,  and  I 
think  I  can  let  it  alone.  Well,"  he  said, 
getting  up  and  taking  my  hand,  "I'm  glad 
to  have  seen  you  again,  anyway.  Take 
care  of  yourself,  and  when  your  first  show 
opens  up  I'll  come  round  with  the  boys  and 
we'll  whoop  things  up." 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  CHARM  OF  AN  OLD  TOWN. 

THE  spiritual  atmosphere  of  Bolanyo 
was  like  the  charm  of  an  old  book 
that  we  prize  only  for  the  almost 
secret  art  of  its  expression,  an  art 
too  ethereal  to  be  caught  and  inspected. 
Sometimes  it  was  drowsy,  with  all  the 
dreamy  laziness  of  a  hamlet  in  the  south  of 
Spain,  but  there  were  days  when  it  seemed 
to  rebel  against  its  own  ease  and  unconcern, 
when  a  sense  of  Americanism  asserted  it 
self  to  demand  a  share  in  the  bustling  af 
fairs  of  noisy  commerce.  Court  day  was  a 
time  of  special  activity.  It  was  then  that  the 
local  market  felt  a  stimulating  thrill.  My 
window  looked  out  upon  the  public  square, 
a  macadamized  space,  white  and  dazzling 
in  the  sun.  Sometimes  the  scene  was  busy 


132  BOLANYO. 

and  interesting  in  variety;  wagons  loaded 
with  hay  still  fragrant  of  the  meadow;  a 
brisk  horse  trotted  up  and  down  in  front  of 
an  auctioneer;  negroes  with  live  chickens 
tied  in  bunches;  a  drunken  man  making  a 
speech  on  the  wretched  condition  of  the 
country;  a  "  fakir"  on  the  corner  selling  a 
soap  that  would  remove  a  stain  from  even 
a  tarnished  reputation. 

Life  along  the  levee  was  ever  interesting 
to  me,  for  it  was  there  that  I  could  study 
the  slowly  vanishing  type  of  boatmen,  once 
so  distinctive  as  to  threaten  the  coming  of 
a  new  and  haughty  aristocracy.  Singing 
the  song  of  long  ago,  with  their  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  river,  the  old  negroes  stumbled 
over  the  railway  track  that  a  new  progress 
had  thrown  across  their  domain.  Great 
red  warehouses  were  falling  into  decay,  and 
rank  weeds  were  growing  in  the  bow  of  a 
half-submerged  steamer  that  years  ago  had 
won  a  great  race  on  the  river.  Everywhere 
lay  the  rotting  ends  and  broken  ravelings 
of  the  past,  but  nowhere,  not  even  in  the 


THE  CHARM  OF  AN  OLD   TOWN.         133 

oddest  corner,  could  there  be  found  the 
thread  of  a  hope  for  the  future.  The  busi 
ness  interests  of  the  town  had  grown  away 
from  the  river,  leaving  it  to  melancholy 
poetry  and  to  death.  And  here  I  loitered, 
day  after  day,  in  a  vague  contentment  ex 
tracted  from  a  distress  more  vague.  To  a 
thoughtful  mind  there  is  more  of  interest  in 
decay  than  in  progress;  the  "  Decline  and 
Fall"  is  a  greater  book  than  could  have 
been  written  on  the  "  Origin  and  Rise." 

I  could  find  no  one  to  tell  me  much  of 
the  history  of  Bolanyo;  no  one  appeared  to 
take  an  interest  in  that  part  of  its  existence 
which  lay  behind  the  halcyon  and  now  al 
most  holy  day  of  the  steamboat.  I  knew 
that,  in  a  corrupted  form,  it  retained  the 
name  given  originally  to  the  Spanish  forti 
fication.  But  that  was  enough  to  know, 
for  the  exact  dates  of  the  historian  might 
have  made  it,  in  comparison  with  places  of 
real  antiquity,  a  toadstool  of  yesterday. 

I  saw  the  Senator  nearly  every  day,  in  the 
office  or  on  the  street.  Election  was  not  far 


134  BOLANYO. 

away,  and  he  had  begun  to  mingle  more 
freely  with  the  people;  and  though  his 
manner  was  as  cordial  and  as  solicitous  as 
on  the  day  when  driving  with  me  he  had 
saluted  everyone  whom  he  met  in  the  road, 
he  was  far  from  being  familiar,  and  no  one, 
except  his  most  intimate  friends,  presumed 
to  call  him  Giles. 

The  sight  of  his  house,  pillared  and 
stately,  on  the  summit  of  the  graceful  rise, 
was  always  a  pleasure,  and  while  strolling 
about,  with  no  intention  of  calling  (having, 
doubtless,  called  the  day  before),  I  kept  it 
in  view,  for  my  eyes  were  never  weary  with 
looking  upon  it,  so  white  and  peaceful.  It 
was  not  a  palace,  not  really  a  mansion,  and 
in  the  rich  communities  of  the  North  it 
would  not  have  been  noteworthy  except  as 
a  sort  of  quaint  renaissance  in  home  build 
ing,  but  to  me  it  had  not  been  set  there  by 
the  hand  of  man,  but  by  the  Genii  of  the 
Lamp. 

Upon  calling  one  afternoon,  I  was  told 
by  the  negro  woman  that  the  Senator  was 


THE  CHARM  OF  AN  OLD  TOWN.         135 

asleep,  and,  not  wishing  to  have  him  dis 
turbed,  I  walked  out  into  the  garden,  where 
Washington  was  at  work  among  the  flow 
ers.  With  the  instinct  of  his  race,  he  was 
humming  a  tune,  and  he  did  not  hear  me 
until  I  spoke  to  him,  and  then,  uplifting  his 
hand  with  a  sign  of  caution,  he  pointed  at 
a  tree  not  far  away.  My  eyes  leaped  to 
follow  him,  for  I  felt  that  the  young  woman 
was  near,  and  there  on  a  bench  she  sat, 
her  head  against  the  tree,  her  hat  on  the 
ground — asleep. 

4 'Don't  make  a  noise,"  he  said,  in  tones 
but  little  louder  than  a  whisper.  "  Sarah, 
the  colored  woman  there  in  the  house,  say 
— says  the  young  lady  didn't  sleep  hardly 
at  all  last  night,  and  she  went  to  sleep  out 
there  just  now." 

"She  isn't  ill,  is  she?"  I  asked. 

"Sick?  No,  Sir,  she  is  well,  but  she's 
got  to  sleep  some  time.  How  do  you  like 
my  flowers?" 

"They  are  very  beautiful." 

"Yes,  Sir,  but  don't  talk  quite  so  loud. 


i36  BOLANYO. 

Seems  to  me  like  you  are  trying  to  wake 
her  up.  I  didn't  want  to  take  money  for 
this  work,"  he  went  on,  bending  over  and 
pulling  up  a  weed,  "for  I  like  to  do  it, 
but  they  insist  on  paying  me.  Yes,  Sir. 
And  I  reckon — I  suppose  we  have  here  the 
finest  clump  of  magnolias  in  all  this  part  of 
the  country.  This  one,  right  here,  was  set 
out  the  day  Miss  Florence  was  born,  twenty- 
four  years  ago,  now." 

4  4  And  it  is  the  most  graceful  tree  of  them 
all,"  I  replied. 

He  cut  his  black  eyes  at  me.  * '  Yes,  Sir, 
I  believe  it  is,  but,  even  if  it  wasn't,  you 
might  say  it  was.  I  beg  your  pardon,  Sir, 
but  you  just  as  well  board  here.  Oh,  all 
the  whole  human  family  is  not  blind.  If 
the  rest  of  them  are,  I'm  not." 

"Look  here,  Washington." 

"  I'm  looking,  Sir,"  he  said,  his  eyes  full 
upon  me. 

"  You  were  very  kind  to  me,  and  I  am 
grateful,  but  I  don't  want  your  guardian 
ship,  and  I  won't  have  your  insinuations." 


THE  CHARM  OF  AN  OLD  TOWN.         137 

"Why,  bless  you,  Sir,  I  don't  want  to 
be  your  guardian,  and  I  don't  intend  to  in 
sinuate.  I  spoke  to  you  once  about  a 
danger,  and  I  was  afraid  you  had  forgotten 
it.  Don't  misunderstand  me.  I  believe 
you  are  an  honorable  man,  but  honor  is 
not  always  careful  enough  when  it  comes  to 
talking  to  a  lady,  and  none  but  an  honor 
able  man  could  make  trouble  on  this  occa 
sion.  The  only  trouble  you  can  make- 
there  (nodding  toward  the  bench  whereon 
the  young  woman  sat,  in  fluffy  white),  the 
only  trouble  you  can  cause  there,"  he  re 
peated,  "would  be  to  make  her  still  more 
dissatisfied  with  life.  And  a  trouble  might 
fall  hard  on  you,  Sir.  Let  me  tell  you 
something  in  confidence.  People  have  said 
that  my  wedding  to  the  church  was  what 
kept  me  from  a  marriage  of  the  flesh.  I 
let  them  believe  so,  but  it  is  not  true.  Mr. 
Belford,  a  soul  that  is  now  cool  and  quiet 
in  this  black  breast  was  once  raging  and 
on  fire.  It  was  a  long  time  ago.  I  had 


138  BOLANYO. 

just  begun  to  preach.  I  lived  at  the  house 
of  a  friend — over  yonder." 

He  waved  his  hand  toward  a  distant  hill 
on  which  was  clustered  a  negro  settle 
ment. 

"And  there  was  a  woman  with  a  face 
like  cream  when  the  cow  has  eaten  the  first 
buds  of  the  clover;  and  her  eyes  were  as 
bright  as  the  star  that  hung  above  the 
manger,  and  her  laugh  was  as  sweet  as  the 
notes  that  dripped  like  honey  from  the  harp 
of  David." 

He  stood  erect,  a  pose  of  black  dignity, 
his  arms  folded  on  his  breast,  and  in  one 
hand  he  held  the  weed  that  he  had  uprooted 
from  among  the  flowers.  I  did  not  ques 
tion  the  sincerity  of  his  religious  zeal;  from 
what  I  had  heard  and  from  what  I  had  seen 
of  him  I  was  persuaded  that  with  honesty 
he  had  dedicated  his  life  to  the  service  of 
his  creed,  but  now  I  felt  that  he  was  mak 
ing  a  conscious  picture  of  his  sentiment  and 
his  sacrifice.  The  bigotry  of  applauded 
self-righteousness  was  in  the  look  that  he 


THE  CHARM  OF  AN  OLD  TOWN.         139 

bent  upon  me,  and  my  blood  rose  in  resent 
ment,  but  I  said  nothing;  I  let  him  proceed. 

4 'This  woman  was  a  wife,  beyond  my 
reach,  and  I  felt  that  there  was  no  danger 
for  me,  and  therefore  I  was  not  careful,  but 
the  first  thing  I  knew  I  was  called  upon  to 
choose  between  the  spirit  of  the  Lord  and 
the  flesh  of  the  devil." 

"Washington,  you  are  talking  what  is 
popularly  known  as  rot.  How  can  you 
compare  a  handsome  woman  with  the  flesh 
of  the  devil?" 

"The  devil's  flesh  may  be  beautiful,  Sir; 
and  beautiful  flesh  may  not  be  conscious 
that  it  was  laid  on  by  the  devil." 

« '  But  if  the  devil  can  tint  the  flesh  and 
make  it  beautiful,  he  is  an  artist." 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "and  the  devil  might 
arm  an  agent  with  a  paint  brush." 

4 *  More  rot,  Washington.  The  beautiful 
things  are  of  the  Lord  and  not  of  the  devil. 
The  devil  may  have  made  the  weed  you 
hold  in  your  hand,  but  the  flowers  belong 
to  God." 


140  BOLANYO. 

With  a  shudder  he  dropped  the  weed,  as 
if  suddenly  it  had  burnt  him.  "  Well,  the 
end  of  your  love  story;  how  did  it  come 
out?" 

"It  made  the  woman  dissatisfied  with 
the  cold  clod  she  was  living  with;  and  if  I 
had  not  let  my  duty  rule  me  there  might 
have  been  a  scandal,  and  then  my  day  of 
usefulness  would  have  been  gone." 

"Yes;  I  suppose  that  a  preacher  must 
necessarily  look  upon  a  woman  as  a  sort  of 
trap  door.  He  may  recover  from  the  dis 
grace  of  wine,  but  woman —  '  I  glanced 
toward  the  bench,  to  find  Mrs.  Estell  en 
gaged  in  the  very  human  act  of  rubbing  her 
eyes.  I  did  not  wait  to  finish  the  sentence, 
but  stepped  off  briskly;  and,  looking  round 
before  she  recognized  my  coming,  I  saw 
that  Washington  had  dropped  his  dignity 
and  was  bending  among  the  flowers.  She 
was  not  startled  when  she  saw  me;  she  did 
not  even  show  surprise,  for  my  odd-hour 
presence  had  become  commonplace. 

"I'm  glad  you  came,"  she  said  in  quiet 


THE  CHARM  OF  AN  OLD  TOWN.         14 1 

frankness,    and  with  a  smile  of  welcome. 
"Sit  down.      Isn't  it  a  sleepy  day?" 

"Yes.  And  even  the  soft  air  is  gently 
snoring  among  the  leaves,"  I  replied,  rather 
pleased  with  the  fancy. 

' '  Don't  talk  that  way, "  she  said.  ' '  You'll 
put  me  to  sleep  again."  She  turned  her 
face  away  to  hide  a  yawn.  "Have  you 
begun  work  on  your  play?" 

"Well,  yes,  I  have  taken  some  very  im 
portant  steps.  Day  before  yesterday  I  got 
some  paper,  got  a  pint  of  ink  yesterday, 
and  I  expect  to  get  a  box  of  pens  to-day." 

"Oh,  you  are  making  great  progress. 
You  are  going  to  let  me  read  it,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes,  after  I've  had  it  typewritten." 

"Oh,  I  won't  want  to  read  it  then — all 
the  character  of  the  work  will  be  gone — I 
couldn't  find  any  of  your  moods  and  troubles 
in  it;  couldn't  tell  where  it  was  easy  nor 
where  you  got  stuck.  I  always  think  that 
handwriting  holds  something  for  me  alone, 
but  a  typewritten  thing  is  intended  for 
everybody.  The  other  day  I  got  a  type- 


142  BOLANYO. 

written  letter  from  Mr.  Estell,  and  I  sent  it 
back  to  him  without  reading  it.  Of  course, 
he  had  to  dictate  it.  And  he  sent  an  apol 
ogy  by  the  next  mail" 

"Also  dictated?"  I  asked. 

"It  would  have  been  just  like  him,"  she 
laughed,  "but  it  was  scratched  with  a  pen. 
I  hate  anything  that's  dictated;  I  actually 
hate  it.  Some  time  ago  I  read  that  a  favor 
ite  author  of  mine  dictated  his  books  or 
worked  the  typewriter  himself,  and  since 
then  I  can't  read  him.  It  seems  to  me  that 
the  mellowest  work  was  done  by  the  poets 
when  they  wrote  with  a  quill.  Imagine 
Byron  setting  fire  to  a  page  with  a  type 
writer!" 

There  was  the  humor  of  scorn  in  her 
'  *  glad  eyes  "  as  she  looked  up  at  me.  ' i  So, 
if  I  am  to  read  your  play,  it  must  not  be 
when  the  typewriter  has  hammered  you  out 
of  it,"  she  said. 

' '  I  will  read  it  to  you.  How  will  that 
do?" 

"From  the  original  sheets?     That  will 


THE  CHARM  OF  AN  OLD  TOWN.         143 

do;  that  is,  if  you  want  to.  I  don't  want 
you  to  feel  that  it's  a  duty." 

"Oh,  no;  it  will  be  a  pleasure.  The 
path  of  duty  is  too  straight  for  me." 

«'  It's  the  winding  path  that  leads  to  the 
sweetest  flowers,"  she  said,  with  a  motion 
of  her  hand  toward  a  clump  of  roses  not 
far  away. 

There  were  a  hundred  points  on  which  I 
had  yearned  to  question  her,  and  the  most 
vital  of  them  all — why  had  she  taken  the 
name  of  that  unsympathetic  man?  — arose  to 
my  mind,  but  instantly  it  sank  again.  Her 
manner  toward  me  was  cordial  and  inti 
mate,  but  in  it  I  recognized  a  command 
against  familiarity;  that  quiet  something 
which  tells  a  man  more  than  a  volume  of 
words  could  imply.  I  wanted  to  believe 
that  she  was  persuaded  by  her  father.  I  was 
willing  to  believe  almost  anything  except 
that  she  could  ever  have  loved  him.  It  was 
not  alone  the  eye  of  prejudice  that  made 
him  look  old;  it  was  actual  age.  He  was 
older  than  the  Senator.  But  his  people 


i44  BOLANYO. 

had  been  great — the  lords  of  old  Virginia. 
I  would  wait,  and  perhaps  at  some  time  in 
the  future  she  might  forget  a  high-strung 
woman's  caution;  she  might  drop  a  thought 
less  word,  a  firefly  to  glow  in  the  dark. 

The  negro  preacher  came  walking  slowly 
down  the  patch,  to  give  his  attention  to 
another  part  of  the  garden.  He  was  hum 
ming  a  tune,  with  his  eyes  on  the  ground, 
and  he  neither  spoke  nor  halted,  but  at  my 
feet  he  dropped  a  weed. 

"You  have  a  faithful  gardener,"  I  re 
marked,  when  Washington  had  passed  be 
yond  the  reach  of  a  low  tone. 

"  Yes;  there  was  only  one  George  Wash 
ington,  and  there's  only  one  Washington 
Smith." 

"But  don't  you  think  he's  a  little  too 
zealous? " 

"  Too  zealous?  How?  "  she  inquired,  turn 
ing  her  eyes  full  upon  me. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  that  zealous  is  the 
word.  Perhaps  I  should  have  said  intoler 
ant." 


THE  CHARM  OF  AN  OLD  TOWN.         145 

"  Oh,  he  is  intolerant — yes.  He  believes 
that  he's  one  of  the  anointed." 

"  That's  all  very  well,  but  he  oughtn't  to 
believe  that  he  is  appointed  to  look  after  the 
souls  of  other  men." 

"Then  he  would  have  no  mission,"  she 
replied.  ' <  The  true  strength  of  the  preacher 
is  his  sense  of  responsibility." 

"Pardon  me,  I  didn't  know  you  were 
of  the  strictly  orthodox  fold." 

"  Didn't  you?  Don't  you  know  I  go  to 
church  every  Sunday?" 

"  Yes,  I  ought  to.  I  have  more  than  once 
waited  for  you  to  come  home."  She  looked 
at  me  in  surprise,  and  I  made  haste  to  add: 
' '  The  Senator  and  I  have  needed  you  to 
arbitrate  our  disputes,  you  know." 

"Oh,  yes,  and  I  think  you  were  wise  in 
acknowledging  that  he  had  brought  you  in 
to  his  party.  We  all  take  a  great  interest 
in  our  converts.  Everybody  is  looking  for 
ward  to  the  coming  of  your  dramatic  sea 
son,"  she  went  on  after  a  moment's  pause. 
"And  I  think  you'll  become  quite  a  favorite 

10 


146  BOLANYO. 

in  society.  I  heard  Mrs.  Atkinson  speak  of 
you.  She's  our  leader.  She  saw  you  some 
where.  Of  course  there  was  some  little  preju 
dice  against  you,  at  first,  but  that  has  worn 
off.  And  there's  a  splendid  catch  here  for 
you — Miss  Rodney — distantly  related  to  the 
Estell  family.  She  has  seen  you,  too.  She 
says  you  must  be  very  romantic;  and  she 
asked  me  all  sorts  of  questions." 

< '  Of  course  I  want  to  be  agreeable,  but — " 

"But  what?" 

"I  simply  don't  care  anything  for  so 
ciety." 

"Our  stupid  society,  you  mean." 

"No,  I  mean  any  society.  I  like  indi 
viduals  but  I  don't  care  for  sets. " 

"Oh,  and  you  are  going  to  rob  me  of  the 
distinction  of  showing  you  off.  Very  well, 
Sir." 

<  <  I  wouldn't  be  a  distinction — more  of  a 
humiliation." 

' '  We'll  see  when  the  time  comes.  You 
have  no  idea  what  a  source  of — what  shall 


THE  CHARM  OF  AN  OLD  TOWN.         147 

I  say?  Pleasure  —  gratification  you  have 
been  to  me." 

"Do  you  really  mean  it?" 

"  Mean  it?  Why  shouldn't  I?  You  have 
helped  me  to  pick  things  to  pieces;  and  we 
can  have  a  great  time  when  you  know  the 
people  here  well  enough  to  gossip  about 
them.  It's  always  interesting  to  hear  what 
a  stranger  has  to  say  of  one's  old  acquaint 
ances." 

* '  Yes,  if  he  speaks  what  he  conceives  to 
be  the  truth.  The  truth  is  spicy  and  not 
infrequently  malicious." 

*  *  You  make  me  laugh.  Do  you  suppose  I 
want  to  hear  anyone  speak  ill  of  my  friends?" 

' '  Why,  yes.  You  might  demur,  but  you 
would  listen." 

"Yes,  I  believe  I  would,"  she  laughed, 
' '  and  isn't  it  mean?  I've  tried  so  hard  to  be 
good,  but  I  can't." 

"It  is  hard  to  be  good,  and — "  I  hesi 
tated. 

"And  what?" 

"Will  you  pardon  an  impudence?" 


148  BOLANYO, 

"Yes,  if  it's  not  too  bad." 
"Hard  to  be  good  and  beautiful." 
Her  face  was  turned  from  me,  but  I  saw 
a  red  tint  rise  and  spread  over  her  neck. 
She  spoke  without  looking  at  me,  and  her 
voice  was  steady  and  deep.      "I  helped  you 
to  set  a  trap  and  then  walked  into  it,  and 
therefore  I've  no  right  to  feel  offended,  but 
if  my  treatment   of  you  leads   up  to   such 
compliments,  I  must  change  it." 

"  No!  "  I  cried,  abashed;  and  the  negro  on 
his  knees  at  a  tulip  bed,  down  the  path, 
looked  up  at  me.  "It  was  simply  a  jest; 
there  has  never  been  anything  in  your  man 
ner  to  warrant  it.  Let  me  tell  you  that  at 
times  I  am  a  barbarian;  I  lose  respect  for 
polite  customs.  I  have  known  ladies  who 
liked  to  be  told  that  they  were  beautiful — 
women  who  were  charmed  to  have  their 
pictures  in  a  magazine  among  a  collection 
of  "  types"  celebrated  for  beauty.  I  — " 
was  she  laughing  at  me?  She  was. 

"The  fact  that  you  take  it  so  to  heart 


THE  CHARM  OF  AN  OLD  TOWN.         149 

wipes  out   the  impudence,"  she   said,   still 
laughing. 

I  felt  that  my  crime  existed  in  the  fact 
that  her  husband  was  more  than  twenty 
year  older  than  herself.  And  I  have  reason 
to  believe  that  the  young  woman  who  mar 
ries  an  old  man,  and  who  is  constantly  striv 
ing  to  maintain  her  own  self-respect,  has  a 
fancied  or  perhaps  a  real  cause  to  stand  in 
dread  of  a  compliment.  It  may  be  sincere, 
but  in  its  candor  lies  an  insinuation  and  a  re 
proach.  But  when  Mrs.  Estell  saw  that  no 
insinuation  was  intended,  she  was  even  more 
free  than  she  had  been  before.  She  laughed 
with  such  gayety  that  Washington  went 
about  his  work  and  paid  no  further  heed  to 
us.  We  talked  about  the  people  of  the  town, 
the  leader  of  society  and  the  young  woman 
who  had  been  put  forward  as  a  splendid 
catch  for  me;  and  once  I  ventured  near  the 
verge  of  an  awkward  sentiment.  In  mak 
ing  a  gesture  she  accidentally  touched  my 
hand,  and  with  the  thrill  of  the  moment  I 
could  have  leaped  high  in  the  air.  But  it 


150  BOLANYO. 

took  only  a  flash  of  reason  to  assure  me 
that  I  was  a  fool.  I  will  say,  though,  and 
without  evil,  that  I  would  have  given  all  my 
prospects,  the  theatre  and  the  play — any 
thing — to  have  clasped  her  in  my  arms.  No, 
not  anything.  I  would  not  have  given 
up  the  respect 'which  I  hoped  she  had  for 
me.  Ah,  how  many  hearts  are  this  moment 
aching  for  a  love  that  the  law  has  hedged 
about  with  Duty!  And  this  to  me  was  mon 
strous,  for  I  was  of  a  mimic  life,  where  love 
pretended  that  there  were  locksmiths  to  be 
laughed  at,  but  where  in  reality  the  law  it 
self  was  vain. 

The  Senator  came  striding  down  the  path, 
and  seeing  me,  he  cried:  "Ha!  Mr.  Mana 
ger,  why  didn't  you  have  them  wake  me? 
Don't  want  to  waste  any  more  daylight  than 
I  am  compelled  to,  but  the  fact  is,  I've  been 
at  work  pretty  hard  of  late.  A  campaign 
always  stirs  me  up." 

We  made  room  for  him  and  he  sat  down, 
continuing  to  talk.  "  Didn't  hear  about 
my  speech  out  at  Briar  Flat  last  night,  did 


THE  CHARM  OF  AN  OLD  TOWN.        151 

you?  Well,  Sir,  we  had  a  lively  time.  You 
see  the  Convention  is  really  the  election,  and 
to  win  I  must  get  votes  enough  to  secure 
the  nomination.  There's  a  Cheap  John  of 
a  fellow  announced  as  a  candidate  against 
anybody  our  party  may  put  up,  a  schemer 
out  after  the  country  vote.  Well,  he  came 
to  our  meeting  —  had  no  earthly  business 
there,  mind  you,  but  he  came.  He  inter 
rupted  me  several  times  with  his  fool  ques 
tions,  and  at  last  I  said,  *  See  here,  Mister 
Whatever -your -name- may- be,  I  am  per 
fectly  willing  to  answer  any  question  that 
one  of  these  farmers  may  ask,  but  I've  got 
no  time  for  a  man  who  farms  with  his  mouth. ' 
Well,  Sir,  the  boys  laughed  and  he  got 
red  hot.  He  stood  up  and  cried  out  that 
any  man  who  said  he  wasn't  a  practical 
farmer  and  a  gentleman  was  a  liar.  Huh! 
Well!  I  handed  my  hat  to  a  friend  and— 

"Now,  father,"  Mrs.  Estell  broke  in, 
"you  promised  me— 

"  Hold  on,  now;  it  wasn't  a  fight.  Noth 
ing  of  the  sort.  I  know  what  I  promised 


152  BOLANYO. 

you,  and  I'll  keep  my  word.  Yes,  I  handed 
my  hat  to  a  friend  and  stepped  down  to 
where  the  fellow  stood,  with  his  back  against 
the  wall.  I  asked  him  —  I  was  polite — if  he 
meant  to  insinuate  that  I  was  a  liar.  There 
was  no  violation  of  a  promise  in  that,  was 
there,  Florence? " 

4 'No,  Sir,  not  if  you  asked  him  politely," 
she  answered,  laughing. 

"It  was  polite,  I  assure  you.  Well,  he 
studied  a  moment,  and  then  declared  that 
he  never  did  insinuate,  that  he  came  right 
out  and  said  what  he  meant.  And,  Belford, 
I  rather  admired  him  for  that.  But,  er — 
the  fact  is—" 

"You  struck  him,"  Mrs.  Estell  inter 
jected.  "Didn't  you?" 

"Well,  that  depends  upon  the  way  you 
look  at  it.  Now,  here,  Florence,  you 
wouldn't  want  to  know  that  a  man  had  stood 
up  in  front  of  a  whole  houseful  of  people 
and  called  your  father  a  liar.  I  mean  that 
under  such  circumstances  you  wouldn't 
blame  me  for — for  tapping  him. " 


THE  CHARM  OF  AN  OLD  TOWN.         153 

"Of  course  not,"  she  replied. 

"Ah,  ha,  and  I  did  tap  him.  Belford, 
I  hit  that  fellow  a  crack  that  he'll  remem 
ber  the  longest  day  he  lives.  Fell?  Why, 
Sir,  he  fell  like  a  beef;  and  when  they 
had  taken  him  away,  the  meeting  was  kind 
enough  to  name  me  as  its  unanimous 
choice." 

The  negro  woman  who  had  announced 
her  suspicion  of  all  men  came  out  upon  the 
veranda  to  ring  the  supper  bell,  and,  aston 
ished  to  realize  that  the  sun  was  no  longer 
shining,  I  bounced  up  with  a  declaration 
that  I  must  get  back  to  town. 

"No,  Sir,  not  till  you  have  had  supper," 
the  Senator  replied.  "Why,  what  can  you 
be  thinking  about  to  run  away  at  a  time 
like  this?  Come  on,"  he  added,  taking  my 
arm  and  turning  me  toward  the  house.  "  I 
want  to  have  a  talk  with  you  after  supper 
— on  business.  Come,  Florence." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A   MATTER   OF   BUSINESS. 

IN  the  library,  after  supper,  I  waited  for 
the  Senator  to  introduce  the  talk  which 
we  were  to  have  on  business;  but  he 
wandered  off  into  a  political   reminis 
cence  of  a  day  when  a  man  found  out  what 
his  convictions  were  and  then  looked  about 
for  a  chance  to  defend  them  with  his  life. 
He  told  me,  as  comfortably  he  sat  with  his 
feet  in  the  slippers  which  his  daughter  had 
brought  for  him,  that  he  could  recall  an  old 
fellow  who  wrote  out  his  principles  in  blood 
drawn  from  his  breast.      "Yes,  Sir,  and  it 
created  a  big  hurrah  at  the  time.      Copies 
of  his  creed  were  sought  after,  in  the  orig 
inal  ink,   and  so  many  of  them  were  sent 
out  that  the  suspicions  of  a  young  doctor 
were    aroused.       He    calculated    that    the 
154 


A  MATTER  OF  BUSINESS.  155 

amount  of  blood  thus  put  in  outward  circu 
lation  would  leave  an  insufficient  circulation 
within,  though  the  body  of  the  politician 
still  appeared  to  be  strong  and  active.  And 
it  was  then  that  a  most  startling  discovery 
was  made.  The  rascal  had  not  used  his 
own  blood,  but  a  red  powder  and  the  juice 
of  the  pokeberry.  Well,  Sir,  this  stirred 
up  the  community  from  one  end  to  the 
other;  the  people  swore  that  they  had  been 
defrauded,  and  they  demanded  that  he 
should  make  good  the  counterfeits  or  get 
out  of  the  race.  His  circulating  medium 
was  not  strong  enough  to  warrant  the  out 
put,  so  he  retired  in  disgrace.  Yes,  Sir. 
Belford,  do  you  know  that  I  can  see  that 
fellow  Petticord's  hand  every  time  I  go  to 
a  political  meeting?  I  can.  He  is  all  the 
time  trying  to  tunnel  under  me,  and  it 
keeps  me  busy  stepping  about  to  keep  from 
falling  in.  I  am  afraid,  Sir,  that  sooner  or 
later  I'll  have  to  kill  that  scoundrel." 

"Father!"   spoke   his  daughter,   turning 
from  the  window. 


I56  BOLANYO. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Florence.  I  don't 
mean  to  kill  him — er — er — offensively,  you 
understand,  but,  perhaps,  necessarily.  Of 
course  we  are  inflicted  more  or  less  as  we 
journey  through  this  life,  but  I  can't  recon 
cile  myself  to  the  belief  that  we  are  called 
upon  to  stand  everything.  Let  us  say  that 
sometimes  the  devil  giveth  and  the  Lord 
taketh  away.  Now,  if  I  could  only  pro 
voke  him  into  a  fight — I  beg  your  pardon." 

Mrs.  Estell  had  put  her  hand  on  his 
shoulder.  She  looked  at  me  with  a  smile, 
but  the  Senator  glanced  up  to  meet  an 
expression  of  reproof. 

4 'Provoke  him  into  a  fight?"  she  said. 

* '  Figuratively,  you  understand.  I  wouldn't 
provoke  him  except  figuratively.  But  I 
don't  see  why  my  footsteps  are  to  be  con 
stantly  dogged  by  that  red  wolf.  Why 
doesn't  he  come  out  in  his  paper  and  give 
me  a  chance?  What  are  you  going  to  do?" 
She  had  stepped  upon  a  chair  and  was 
taking  down  the  foils.  ' '  Belf ord,  I  reckon 


A  MATTER  OF  BUSINESS,  157 

you'll  have  to  defend  yourself.  I  won't 
fight;  I'm  a  noncombatant. " 

I  fenced  with  her,  having  had  some  little 
experience,  but  she  was  too  quick  and  too 
skillful  for  me.  The  Senator  laughed,  and 
his  face  was  aglow  with  pride  to  see  her 
drive  me  into  a  corner,  where  I  was  willing 
enough  to  surrender. 

"He  isn't  strong  enough  yet,"  she  said, 
in  excuse  of  my  defeat. 

"Oh,  yes,  he  is,"  the  Senator  cried. 
"He's  as  strong  as  a  deck  hand,  but  he 
hasn't  the  skill.  Just  feel  of  that  girl's 
arm,  Belford.  Don't  be  afraid  of  her — she 
won't  hurt  you." 

I  put  my  hand  on  her  arm,  so  round  and 
firm,  so  warm  through  the  gauze  sleeve  she 
wore;  and  I  thought  it  well  for  me  that 
neither  the  father  nor  the  daughter  observed 
my  agitation. 

A  negro  came  to  tell  the  Senator  that  a 
Mr.  Spencer  wanted  to  speak  to  him  at  the 
gate.  "Politics,"  said  the  law  maker,  as 
he  took  up  his  hat.  ' '  And  that  fellow 


158  BOLANYO. 

wouldn't  get  off  his  horse  to  meet  the  Pres 
ident.  Stay  right  where  you  are  till  I  come 
back,  Belford.  I  want  to  have  a  talk  with 
you — on  business." 

He  went  out  and  Mrs.  Estell  sat  down  in 
his  armchair.  Her  face  was  flushed  and 
her  eyes  were  a  delight  to  behold. 

"I'll  be  glad  when  this  miserable  cam 
paign  is  over,"  she  said.  "It  upsets  every 
thing,  spoils  our  evenings,  and  bores  every 
body  that  comes  to  the  house." 

"It  doesn't  bore  me,"  I  replied. 

"No;  I  gave  him  his  orders  not  to  talk 
politics  to  you." 

"That's  a  compliment,  surely." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  told  him  he  ought 
to  see  that  you  didn't  understand  the  polit 
ical  situation.  And  after  he'd  converted 
you  he  was  willing  enough  to  grant  you 
freedom.  Mr.  Belford,  why  haven't  you 
told  me  more  about  yourself?" 

And  this  gave  me  the  opportunity  to  ask 
her  why  she  had  not  told  me  more  about 
herself,  her  days  of  romance. 


A  MATTER  OF  BUSINESS.  159 

"I  have  had  no  such  days,"  she  said. 
"I  was  born  here  and  I  live  here  and  that 
is  all.  But  you  have  been  everywhere;  you 
came  from  an  old  and  poetic  country." 

"And  you,"  I  replied,  "have  always 
lived  in  a  poetic  country." 

"No,  dreamy  and  visionary,  but  hardly 
poetic.  Poetry  means  action  and  adven 
ture.  You  have  never  told  me  about  her?" 

"Her?     What  her  do  you  mean?" 

"Oh,  any  her.  There  must  have  been 
one." 

"No;  I  can't  recall  one." 

"Really?     And  you  so  sentimental?" 

"I'm  not  sentimental.  A  sentimentalist 
would  tint  the  truth  while  I  would  rather 
view  it  in  its  natural  color,  be  it  dun  or 
even  black.  Do  you  believe  we  ought  to 
be  held  responsible  for  everything?" 

"Yes,  nearly  everything. " 

"But  suppose  a  man  forgets  to  lock  the 
door  of  his  heart,  and  a  woman  out  in  the 
dark,  feeling  about,  accidentally  lifts  up  the 
latch  and  comes  in.  She  is  pure  and  inno- 


160  BOLANYO. 

cent  and  she  does  not  know  that  she  is 
warming  herself  at  the  hearth  of  a  heart. 
Ought  he  to  put  her  out  and  shut  the  door?" 

"  No,  he  should  make  the  fire  still  warmer 
and  brighter,  if  she  has  come  out  of  the  cold 
and  the  dark." 

' '  But  suppose  her  lawful  place  is  beside 
another  fire?" 

"Then  she  would  not  stray  from  it." 

"But  say  that  she  is  walking  in  her 
sleep?" 

"She  would  run  away  as  soon  as  she 
awakes." 

"Ah,  but  suppose  she  does  not  awake. 
Should  he  put  her  out?" 

"I — I  don't  know.  He  must  not  leave 
his  door  unlocked — he  should — should  even 
bar  his  windows." 

We  heard  the  Senator  coming  down  the 
hallway  and  were  silent.  "Now  what  do 
you  reckon  that  fool  fellow  wanted?  Well, 
Sir,  it  beats  anything.  Told  me  that  he  had 
named  a  boy  for  me — said  that  it  ought  to 
be  worth  five  dollars  and  a  barrel  of  flour. 


A  MATTER  OF  BUSINESS.  161 

Why,  dog  my  cats — beg  your  pardon  (bow 
ing  to  Mrs.  Estell).  But  I  say,  if  it  were  to 
get  out — no,  keep  your  seat,  111  sit  over 
here — get  out  that  I  am  giving  five  dollars 
and  a  barrel  of  flour  for  each  boy  named 
for  me,  why,  I'd  be  broke  in  six  months. 
A  long  time  ago  a  yellow-looking  chap  from 
the  swamps  came  to  tell  me  that  he  had 
given  my  name  to  as  fine  a  boy  as  the  coun 
try  ever  saw.  I  was  a  little  easier  flattered 
in  those  days  than  I  am  now,  and  it  tickled 
me  mightily;  and  what  did  I  do  but  give 
the  fellow  a  twenty-dollar  gold  piece.  Well, 
Sir,  about  six  months  after  that  he  went  to 
a  friend  of  mine,  a  candidate  to  fill  an  un- 
expired  term  of  county  clerk,  and  declared 
that  he  had  just  named  a  splendid  specimen 
of  a  boy  for  him.  And  now  what  do  you 
suppose  we  found  out?  The  villain  changed 
that  boy's  name  every  time  a  campaign 
came  along.  Yes,  Sir,  and  he  was  about 
ten  years  old  when  he  was  given  my  name." 
' '  By  the  way,  there  was  something  you 
wanted  talk  to  me  about,"  I  said,  to  remind 


162  BOLANYO. 

him  that  the  hour  was  growing  late.  * '  Some 
thing  on  business,  I  understood  you  to  say." 

"Yes,  but  there's  plenty  of  time.  Let 
me  see,  now,  what  it  was  I  had  on  my 
mind.  Something  I  wanted  to  say  about — 
well,  Sir,  it  has  escaped  me." 

"Then  it  couldn't  have  been  very  im 
portant,"  said  Mrs.  Estell. 

"  It  couldn't,  eh?  Now  that's  where  you 
are  wrong.  In  this  life  we  are  prone  to  for 
get  the  most  important  things.  My  old 
grandfather  used  to  forget  his  wife  when 
she  went  visiting  with  him,  and  go  on  home 
without  her.  But  come  to  consider  more 
closely,  it  wasn't  exactly  a  business  matter 
I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  about,  Belford.  I 
wanted  to  tell  you  that  day  after  to-mor 
row  we'll  go  fox-hunting.  I  sent  over  to 
the  plantation  to  have  the  hounds  put  in 
good  condition,  and  they'll  be  ready  for  us. 
Ever  ride  after  the  hounds? " 

"  Only  in  a  mimic  chase — a  bag  of  anis- 
seed." 

"Oh,    what   nonsense!      Do   you   know 


A  MATTER  OF  BUSINESS.  163 

what  ought  to  be  done  with  a  man  that 
would  get  up  such  a  disgrace  on  the  great 
est  of  all  sport?  Ought  to  be  deprived  of 
his  citizenship,  his  vote;  and  I  don't  know 
of  anything  much  worse  than  that.  Now, 
you  be  here  day  after  to-morrow  morning, 
and  I'll  show  you  what  it  is  to  live  like  a 
white  man." 

He  was  so  earnest  and  so  set  in  his  con 
viction  that  no  work,  however  important, 
should  be  permitted  to  stand  as  a  stumbling- 
block  in  the  road  leading  to  the  field  of  this 
essential  sport,  that  I  yielded,  but  reluc 
tantly,  until  Mrs.  Estell  dropped  a  word  of 
persuasion,  and  then  I  could  not  have  found 
the  moral  nerve  to  urge  even  the  most  cour 
teous  objection. 

When  I  took  my  leave,  soon  afterward, 
the  Senator  walked  out  with  me,  through 
the  gate  and  down  the  road;  and  when  he 
halted  to  turn  back,  I  looked  round  and  saw 
Mrs.  Estell  standing  on  the  portico,  with  a 
lamp  held  aloft  to  light  his  way. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE    PLACE    OF    THE    GOBLINS. 

DOWN  the  road  not  far  from  Tal- 
com's  house  there  stood  a  stone 
chimney,  tall  and  white,  in  the 
midst  of  a  dark  thicket  of  scrub 
locust,  the  mark  of  a  fire  that  years  ago 
had  burnt  a  miser  and  melted  his  gold.  It 
was  a  desolate  place,  even  in  the  sunlight, 
for  the  air  that  breathed  an  enchantment  in 
the  Senator's  magnolia  garden  came  hither 
to  whine  and  moan.  And  whenever  at  night 
I  passed  this  place  I  was  chilled  with  a  nerv 
ous  fear  that  a  goblin  might  jump  out  and 
grab  me.  I  knew  that  there  were  no  gob 
lins,  in  the  sun,  but  the  night  is  the  mother 
of  many  an  imp  that  the  day  refuses  to 
father. 

I  walked  slower  as  I  came  abreast  of  the 
164 


THE  PLACE  OF  THE  GOBLINS.  165 

thicket,  to  prove  to  myself  that  I  was  not 
afraid,  yet  ready  to  take  to  my  heels,  when 
suddenly  I  halted,  statue-still,  with  a  gasp 
and  a  loud  beating  of  the  heart.  A  great 
black  figure  plunged  out  of  the  bushes,  into 
the  road,  and  in  another  moment  I  am  sure 
that  I  should  have  run  like  a  deer  had  not 
a  voice  familiar  to  my  ear  exclaimed: 

4 '  Fo'  de  Lawd,  I  didn'  know  I  wuz  comin' 
through  dat  place.  Walkin'  'cross  de  pas 
ture  thinkin',  an'  de  fust  thing  I  knowed— 

"That  you,  Washington?"  I  cried. 

"Yes,  Sir.  Oh,  it's  Mr.  Belford,"  he  said, 
coming  forward. 

44  You  almost  scared  the  life  out  of  me." 

"Yes,  Sir,  and  scared  myself,  too.  I  am 
on  my  way  from  prayer  meeting,  and  my 
mind  was  so  occupied  that  I  didn't  think  of 
the  thicket  until  I  was  into  it.  Going  to 
town?  I'll  walk  a  piece  with  you  if  you 
have  no  objections." 

44  None  at  all;  be  glad  to  have  you.  It 
made  you  forget  your  education, "  said  I,  as 
we  walked  along. 


166  BOLANYO. 

t(  It  did  that,  Sir.  It  makes  no  difference 
how  many  colleges  a  colored  man  has  gone 
through  nor  how  many  books  he  has  read, 
scare  him  and  he  is  what  the  white  people 
call  a  nigger.  My  mother  used  to  tell  me 
stories  about  that  place  back  there,  and  I 
can't  forget  them.  But  Miss  Florence  isn't 
afraid  of  it,  Sir.  When  a  child  she  often 
played  there  alone,  after  dark,  and  the  Sen 
ator  would  have  to  go  after  her.  Pardon 
me,  but  why  did  you  cry  'No! '  so  loud  in 
the  garden!" 

"Why,  it  must  have  been  when  I  was 
reciting  something. " 

He  grunted  and  we  strode  on  in  silence 
until  he  said:  "Mr.  Belford,  I  have  heard 
that  there  is  no  moral  responsibility  among 
the  people  that  play  on  the  stage — that  the 
winning  or  losing  of  love  means  little  to 
them.  Is  it  true?" 

4  *  Washington,  I  have  read  of  a  hundred 
scandals  in  the  church.  Were  they  true?  " 

He  did  not  answer  at  once;  he  strode  for 
a  long  time  in  silence,  and  then  he  spoke: 


THE  PLACE  OF  THE  GOBLINS  167 

"There  are  bad  people  everywhere,  and 
some  of  them  carry  the  outward  form  of 
the  cross,  but  it  is  made  of  light  paper  and 
not  of  heavy  wood.  But  there  are  many 
who  carry  the  true  cross.  Let  us,  however, 
put  that  aside,  for  I  must  turn  back  when 
we  get  to  the  first  gaslight  down  yonder, 
and  there  is  something  I  want  to  say  to  you 
if  I  can  get  at  it  properly." 

< 'Out  with  it;  don't  try  to  lead  up  to  it." 

"You  are  in  love  with  Mrs.  Estell, "  he 
bluntly  said,  and  I  had  expected  something 
to  the  point,  but  nothing  so  straightforward 
and  undiplomatic;  and  I  could  have  knocked 
him  down  for  his  impertinence,  but  I  swal 
lowed  my  wrath  and  waited  for  him  to  pro 
ceed. 

"I  can  see  it." 

"But  can  she?"  I  compelled  myself, 
quietly,  to  ask. 

"No.  If  she  were  to  see  it,  she  would 
never  step  into  your  presence  again." 

"But  the  Senator!     Can  he  see  it?" 

"No.     Honor  makes  him  blind  to  such  a 


168  BOLANYO. 

sight.  He  could  not  understand  such  a  vio 
lation  of  hospitality.  He  has  made  you 
almost  a  member  of  his  family;  your  mis 
fortune  demanded  his  sympathy,  and  he 
gave  you  his  confidence." 

"Then  you  stand  alone  with  your  eyes 
open?"  I  replied. 

'  *  I  may  stand  alone,  but  other  eyes  are 
open — and  they  wink  at  one  another." 

"What!  Do  you  mean  that  the  neigh 
bors—" 

"Yes,"  he  broke  in,  "that  is  what  I 
mean — the  neighbors." 

' '  Washington,  you  were  graduated  from 
the  Fisk  University,  I  understand,  an  insti 
tution  made  possible  by  the  generosity  of  a 
band  of  jubilee  singers;  and,  having  been 
educated  at  the  instance  of  song,  I  should 
think  that  you  would  have  aspired  to  poesy 
rather  than  to  stilted  talk  and  a  detective's 
disposition  to  pry  into  affairs  that  don't 
concern  you." 

With  the  slouching  habit  of  his  race,  he 
had  been  dragging  his  feet  along,  but  now 


THE  PLACE  OF  THE  GOBLINS.  169 

his  heels  struck  hard  upon  the  road.  He 
sighed  like  a  steam  valve,  to  lessen  the 
pressure  of  his  boiling  resentment,  but  he 
did  not  speak.  I  expected  him  to  turn 
back  in  silence,  as  we  were  now  beneath 
the  light  of  the  street  lamp,  but  he  did  not; 
he  strode  forward  as  if  vaguely  in  quest  of 
some  sort  of  support,  and  put  his  hand  on 
the  lamp-post,  a  hand  so  black  that  it 
looked  like  a  bulge  of  the  iron.  And  then 
he  turned  to  me.  "Mr.  Belford,"  he  said, 
4 'an  educated  negro  is  an  insult  to  every 
unthinking  white  man.  And  unless  he 
jabbers  they  call  him  stilted.  Let  me  tell 
you,  Sir,  that  I  have  stretched  myself  on 
the  floor  to  read  by  the  firelight  because  I 
couldn't  afford  to  buy  a  candle — struggling 
to  conquer  the  dialect  of  my  father — and 
now  you  reproach  me  with  it.  My  poor 
and  ignorant  people  wouldn't  listen  to  me 
if  I  talked  as  they  do.  Heaven,  to  them, 
is  a  place  of  magnificence,  and  the  man 
who  paints  the  picture  of  Paradise  for  them 
must  use  extravagant  colors.  Sir,  I  am  no 


170  BOLANYO. 

more  stilted  than  you  are;  you  serve  the 
devil  on  stilts." 

I  had  to  laugh,  and  then  I  apologized. 
"  There  is  a  good  deal  of  truth  in  what  you 
say,"  said  I.  "The  actor  struts,  and  just 
as  you  do,  to  impress  the  unthinking.  But 
let  us  drop  it.  I'm  sorry  I  offended  you. 
But,  really,  I  don't  like  your  interference." 

"  It  is  not  an  interference.  I  am  an  old 
servant  of  that  family.  Look  here!"  He 
snatched  his  hand  from  the  lamp-post  and 
folded  his  arms.  "What  do  you  intend 
shall  be  the  outcome?" 

"I  don't  know — I  don't  see — " 

" Don't  see  the  end,"  he  interposed. 
"But  don't  you  think  that  the  end  of 
everything  ought  to  be  kept  well  in  view?" 

44  Yes,  I  do.  But  sometimes  a  beginning 
is  so  delightful  that  we  are  afraid  to  look  to 
ward  the  end.  But  I  realize  my  own  selfish 
ness,  and  I  acknowledge  to  you  that  in  spite 
of  what  you  may  term  the  immoral  atmos 
phere  of  a  player's  life — I  confess,  or,  rather, 
I  affirm,  that  in  my  blood  there  is  a  strong 


THE  PLACE  OF  THE  GOBLINS.  171 

current  of  good  old  English  puritanism;  and 
I  will  swear  to  you  that  I  would  cut  my  own 
throat  rather  than  to  bring  disgrace  upon 
that  family." 

He  put  his  mighty  hands  upon  my  shoul 
ders,  and,  turning  my  face  to  the  light,  he 
looked  hard  into  my  eyes. 

"No  man  could  say  more,  Mr.  Belford. 
But  what  are  you  going  to  do? " 

"I  am  going  to  stay  away  from — from 
her." 

"When,  Mr.  Belford;  when  will  you  be 
gin  to  stay  away?" 

"I  have  promised  to  go  fox-hunting  day 
after  to-morrow. " 

14  And  after  that?" 

"I  will  not  go  to  the  house." 

He  took  my  hand,  and  I  forgot  that  he 
was  a  stilted  and  officious  negro.  "Good 
night,  Mr.  Belford."  He  turned  away,  but 
faced  about  and  said:  "I  am  going  to  a 
cabin  on  the  hillside  —  to  pray  for  you. 
Good-night." 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

OLD    JOE    VARK. 

THE  town  was  going  to  bed;  the  late 
moon  was  rising,  and  in  the  mag 
nolia  gardens  there  seemed  to  waver 
a   bright    and   shadowy    silence — a 
night  when  every  sound  was  afar  off,  a  half 
mysterious  echo — the  closing  of  a  window 
shutter,  the  subdued  footfall  of  a  thief,  the 
indistinct  notes  of  an  old  song  lagging  in 
the  soft  and  lazy  air.      I  walked  about  the 
courthouse,  its  pillars  classic  in  the  shadow, 
its  gilded  cupola  gaudy  in  the  light.    I  did 
not  turn  to  my  habitation  across  the  square, 
to  sniff  the  lifeless  atmosphere  and  the  sick- 
ish  paint  of  the  opera  house;    I  bent  my 
way  to  the  river  where  the  moon  was  free. 
And  upon  a  rotting  yawl  I  sat  down  to  think, 
shoulder  to  shoulder  with  the  ghost  of  a 
172 


OLD  JOE  VARK.  173 

dead  commerce.  Far  across  the  stream  a 
mud  scow  fretted  and  fluttered  like  a  duck 
in  distress,  making  just  enough  of  noise  to 
cry  «' silence"  in  the  ear  of  night. 

There  is  religion  in  the  reverie  of  even 
an  atheist;  and  in  the  meditation  of  a  free 
thinker,  whose  grandfather  was  a  believer, 
there  is  almost  a  confession  of  faith.  I 
thought  of  all  that  the  negro  had  said;  I 
reviewed  his  earnestness  and  saw  his  look 
of  trouble;  I  pictured  Talcom  in  his  trust 
fulness;  I  saw  his  daughter  in  her  unsus 
pecting  innocence,  impulsive,  almost  eccen 
tric,  and  yet  a  type  of  the  South.  I  thought 
of  it  all,  and  I  swore  that  I  would  keep  faith 
with  the  preacher.  I  swore  it  with  my  hand 
held  up,  I  ground  myself  down  until  I  felt 
the  rotting  old  boat  crumbling  beneath  me, 
and  yet  it  seemed  that  some  devil  arose  in 
the  air  maliciously  to  whisper,  "No  you 
won't."  And  in  this  reproach,  intended  to 
tantalize  the  conscience,  there  was  a  shame 
ful  sweetness,  a  promise  that  again  I  should 
sit  in  the  garden  with  her.  But  I  went  to 


i74  BOLANYO. 

bed  strong,  and  I  arose  with  strength  the 
next  morning.  I  would  chase  a  fox  with  her, 
and  then,  I  should  see  her  no  more,  except 
by  accident. 

The  Senator  had  enjoined  me  not  to  ap 
pear  overglad  to  make  acquaintances;  not 
to  invite  the  approach  of  the  idle,  lest  they 
should  become  familiar,  but  it  was  hard  to 
maintain  dignity  in  the  presence  of  such 
good  humor  and  friendliness.  A  man  whom 
I  might  have  passed  a  hundred  times,  with 
out  suspecting  his  importance,  would  stop 
me  to  say  that  his  name  was  Hopgood  or 
Leatherington  or  Yancey;  to  assure  me  that 
his  grandfather,  after  having  come  out  of 
the  Mexican  War,  had  served  as  Clerk  of  the 
Circuit  Court;  that  he  was  pleased  to  wel 
come  me  to  Bolanyo;  that  it  was  about  his 
time  of  day  (looking  at  his  watch)  to  take 
a  drink,  and  that  he  would  be  pleased  to 
have  me  join  him.  I  had  not  the  nerve  nor 
the  dignity  to  cool  these  warm  advances, 
rich  in  a  yellowing  sort  of  humor,  the  sad 
fun  of  a  dying  importance;  and  I  found 


OLD  JOE  VARK.  175 

that  the  Senator,  himself,  while  pretending 
to  preserve  the  austerity  of  a  high  position, 
brought  matters  close  to  earth  by  putting 
his  arm  about  some  old  fellow  to  laugh  over 
an  ancient  and  shady  joke.  In  the  town  there 
was  one  man  who  scouted  the  idea  of  self- 
importance,  except  when  drunk,  and  then 
he  sometimes  assumed  to  own  the  com 
munity.  This  man  was  Joe  Vark,  a  shoe 
maker. 

In  the  forenoon,  the  day  after  my  moral 
vow  had  been  taken,  I  went  into  his  shop. 
He  was  sitting  on  his  low  bench;  and  he 
looked  up,  with  a  number  of  shoe-pegs 
showing  between  his  lips,  and  mumbled  me 
an  invitation  to  sit  down.  He  was  short, 
with  a  fine  head  and  thin,  light  hair.  His 
wrinkled  face  was  rather  pale  and  clean  of 
beard.  Beside  him  lay  a  book,  held  partly 
open  by  an  old  shoe  sole. 

"Well,  how  are  they  coming?"  he  in 
quired,  talking  through  his  teeth. 

"All  right,"  I  answered,  and  he  looked 
up  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye.  I  waited  for 


176  BOLANYO. 

him  to  say  something,  but  he  went  on  with 
his  work,  taking  a  peg  from  his  lips  and 
driving  it  into  a  shoe. 

' '  You  were  not  born  here,  were  you,  Mr. 
Vark?" 

He  drove  five  or  six  pegs,  until  there 
were  no  more  between  his  lips,  loosened 
the  strap  with  which  he  held  the  shoe  upon 
a  piece  of  iron,  whistled  softly  as  he  ex 
amined  his  work,  looked  up  at  me  and 
said: 

"  No,  I  came  here  from  Pennsylvania  a 
long  time  ago.  And  it  was  years  before 
they  granted  me  the  privilege  of  being  nat 
ural  when  I  was  drunk.  Oh,  it  was  all 
right  to  get  drunk,  mind  you,  but  they 
wanted  me  to  be  quiet;  and  I  hold  that  a 
man  who  acts  about  the  same,  drunk  or 
sober,  is  dangerous  to  a  community.  Oh, 
they  meet  you  with  a  warm  shake,  but  it 
takes  years  to  become  one  of  them.  But 
after  you  do  get  to  be  one  of  them  you  are 
proud  of  it.  Yes,  Sir,  and  about  all  I've 
got  to  boast  of  is  that  I've  been  here  more 


OLD  JOE  VARK'.  177 

than  thirty  years.  I'm  not  worth  a  cent, 
you  understand,  but  I'm  as  proud  as  a  pea 
cock.  What  of?  That  I've  lived  here 
thirty  years.  What  of  it?  Everything  of 
it.  I  can  take  a  few  drinks  and  be  natural. 
Not  long  ago  I  had  a  little  row  and  I 
snatched  a  comparative  stranger  from  one 
side  of  the  street  to  the  other.  And  what 
did  they  do  with  me?  Why,  I  had  been 
here  so  long  that  the  judge  couldn't  do  any 
thing.  He  fined  the  other  fellow  for  being 
a  stranger  and  that  settled  it." 

He  put  more  pegs  between  his  lips,  ad 
justed  the  shoe  on  the  iron  and  resumed  his 
work.  The  shop  was  small  and  dingy,  and 
the  floor,  almost  hidden  by  scraps  of  leather, 
had  doubtless  never  been  swept.  An  en 
cased  stairway  from  the  outside  made  a 
low,  dark  corner,  and  here,  on  a  shelf,  the 
old  man  kept  an  array  of  books.  It  was 
said  that  he  sometimes  indulged  in  a  reading 
spree,  just  after  a  season  of  liquor;  and 
then  he  slammed  his  door  in  the  face  of  the 


12 


178  BOLANYO. 

present  and  lived  locked  up  with  the  long 
ago. 

I  did  not  disturb  him,  but  waited  for  his 
spirit  to  move  of  its  own  accord.  He 
pegged  the  shoe,  removed  the  strap,  and 
from  a  small  bottle  that  hung  on  the  wall 
within  reach  he  blackened  the  edge  of  the 
sole;  he  inserted  a  hook,  pulled  out  the 
last,  and  set  the  shoe  aside  to  dry.  Then 
he  took  up  an  old  boot  and  said:  "This 
thing  is  beyond  all  repair.  Ought  to  have 
been  thrown  away  years  ago.  But  the  fool 
would  leave  it  here,  and  I'm  expecting  him 
every  minute.  Heigho,  I  don't  know  what 
to  do  with  it.  Guess  I'll  put  it  aside  until 
he  comes,  and  then  beg  him  to  take  it  down 
and  throw  it  into  the  river." 

He  threw  the  boot  aside,  took  up  a  piece 
of  leather  and  began  to  examine  it.  Then, 
brushing  everything  aside,  he  picked  up  a 
clay  pipe,  and  as  he  was  filling  it,  I  handed 
him  a  lighted  match. 

"Thank  you. "  He  lighted  his  pipe, 
puffing  it  with  a  loud  smack  of  the  lips,  and 


OLD  JOE  VARK.  179 

then  settled  himself  down  to  talk.  "No 
use  of  a  man  killing  himself  with  work. 
I've  been  here  too  long  for  that.  How  are 
you  and  Talcom  getting  along?" 

' '  First  rate.  I  have  never  met  a  more 
genial  companion — never  bores,  always  in 
teresting.  " 

"Yes,  Talcom  is  a  good  fellow.  He'll 
recommend  a  gold  brick,  and  then,  to  prove 
his  sincerity,  he'll  turn  round  and  buy  it 
himself.  He  held  me  off  for  a  long  time. 
Of  course  I  never  expected  him  to  make  a 
brother  of  me — our  lines  keep  us  too  far 
apart  for  that — but  he's  friendly,  and  has 
done  me  many  a  favor.  But  I  lived  here  a 
long  time  under  suspicion,  and  whenever 
anything  was  stolen  they  naturally  looked 
to  me.  But,  gradually,  I  convinced  them 
that  I  was  inclined  to  be  honest." 

"By  going  to  church?"  I  inquired. 

"Oh,  no,  by  accepting  a  challenge  from 
a  rival  shoemaker  to  fight  a  duel.  The 
fellow  backed  down;  his  custom  came  to 
me,  and  he  went  away.  I  am  under  great 


i8o  BOLANYO. 

obligations  to  that  man — best  friend  I  ever 
had;  don't  know  what  would  have  become 
of  me  if  he  hadn't  backed  out." 

"But  you  would  have  fought  him." 
"Well,  I  don't  know  about  that.  I  do 
know,  however,  that  I  felt  like  hugging  him 
when  he  refused  to  fight.  Yes,"  he  went 
on,  after  a  short  pause  and  an  industrious 
puffing  at  his  pipe,  "Talcom  is  all  right. 
But  you  never  can  tell  which  way  he'll 
jump  in  his  likes  and  dislikes.  He  may 
like  a  man  and  he  may  not,  and  he's  as 
sudden  as  a  gun  going  off.  You  caught 
him — not  by  anything  you  could  have  said 
or  done,  but  you  just  happened  to  fit  him." 
"All  hands  at  home?"  came  a  voice  as 
whining  as  a  mendicant's  plea,  and,  looking 
up,  I  recognized  the  gaunt  and  drooping 
form  of  the  notorious  Bugg  Peters.  He 
stood  for  a  moment  in  the  doorway,  and 
then  came  forward  with  a  slouching  lurch, 
with  a  grin  and  nod  at  me  and  a  bow  of 
profound  respect  for  the  "boss"  of  the 
shop. 


OLD  JOE  VARK.  181 

"Look  here,  Bugg,"  said  the  shoemaker, 
"I  can't  do  anything  with  that  old  boot. 
It's  beyond  all  repair.  Take  it  out  some 
where  and  throw  it  away." 

''Fur  mercy  sake,  Joe,  don't  talk  like 
that,"  protested  the  notorious  one,  dropping 
upon  a  bench  and  humping  over  as  if  his 
upper  muscles  had  given  away.  "Don't 
snatch  all  the  hope  right  out  of  a  feller's 
hand.  That  boot  belongs  to  my  youngest 
son-in-law,  and  unless  he  gets  it  mended 
to-day  he  can't  come  to  town  to-morrow. 
Joe,  you've  just  got  to  fix  it.  Say,  got 
about  as  fine  a  chunk  of  a  boy  down  at  my 
house  as  you  ever  see'd  in  your  life.  Nan's." 

"Nan's?  How  many  does  that  make?" 
the  shoemaker  asked. 

"Let  me  see.  Why,  it  makes  some 
where  in  the  neighborhood  of  six  for  Nan. 
And  her  old  man  is  settin'  right  there  by 
the  fireplace  now  a-shakin'  fitten  to  kill 
himself.  He  ain't  no  account  at  all  except 
in  the  fall  of  the  year,  and  then  I  take  him 
out  in  the  woods  and  let  him  shake  down 


1 82  BOLANYO. 

persimmons.  Mister  (speaking  to  me),  they 
tell  me  you  are  goin'  to  start  a  show  here, 
and  I'll  fetch  my  folks  to  see  it  if  I  can 
raise  a  few  chickens  and  sell  'em.  Thought 
I'd  get  some  aigs  to-day.  Got  three  old 
hens  and  I  thought  I'd  put  'em  to  work. 
But,  look  here,  Joe,  you  ain't  in  earnest 
about  not  bein'  able  to  do  nothin'  with  that 
boot?" 

4 '  Yes,  I  am,  Bugg.  Throw  it  away. " 
"Now,  when  did  you  expect  a  man  to 
get  so  rich  as  to  fling  away  his  property? 
Doesn't  the  Scripture  say,  'Waste  not,  for 
to-morrow  you  may  die?'  Grab  a-hold  of 
her,  Joe,  and  patch  her  up.  All  you've  got 
to  do  is  to  put  leather  where  there  ain't 
none." 

"Yes,  all  I've  got  to  do  is  to  build  a  boot 
in  the  air." 

"Well,  but  ain't  that  your  business,  hah?" 

"Yes,  if  I'm  paid  for  it;  but  you  haven't 

paid  for  the  last  pair  of  shoes  I  half-soled. 

And  you  said  you'd  pay  on  the   following 

Wednesday. " 


OLD  JOE  VARK.  183 

"Did  I  say  that?  But  I  didn't  tell  you 
pointedly.  You  can  always  count  on  me 
when  I  tell  you  pointedly.  A  man  that 
won't  pay  when  he  tells  you  pointedly  is  a 
liar.  Whose  boots  are  them  right  there — 
them  old  ones?  They'd  just  about  fit  my 
son-in-law.  Yes,  Sir;  and  he  can  put  'em 
on  and  come  up  to  town  and  enjoy  himself. 
What  will  you  take  for  'em,  Joe?" 

"Two  dollars,  Bugg." 

"Cheap  enough,  and  I'll  take  'em.  Pass 
'em  over." 

"But  when  will  you  pay  for  them?" 

' '  Let  me  see.    I'll  pay  for  'em  Thursday. " 

44  Pointedly?"  the  shoemaker  inquired, 
with  a  wink  at  me. 

"Well,  now,  if  it's  to  be  pointedly  I'd 
better  make  it  Thursday  week.  How  does 
that  hit  you?" 

"Take  them  along,  but  I'll  never  get  the 
money." 

He  tumbled  forward  from  his  seat, 
grabbed  up  the  boots,  and,  holding  them 
close  to  his  bosom,  he  said: 


184  BOLANYO. 

' '  Joe,  don't — don't  insult  me  by  sayin' 
that  you'll  never  get  your  money.  It's  a 
sad  thing  to  give  your  word  pointedly  and 
I've  give  you  mine." 

He  took  out  a  string,  tied  the  boots  to 
gether  at  the  straps  and  threw  them  across 
his  shoulder.  Then  he  sat  down.  "Yes, 
Sir,"  he  said,  "when  a  man  gives  me  his 
word  pointedly  and  fails  to  keep  it,  I  put 
him  down  in  my  liar  book.  Say,  Mister,  I 
hear  'em  say  you  are  goin'  to  give  your  show 
in  a  house.  Don't  see  how  you  can  give 
much  of  a  show  unless  you've  got  room  to 
gallop  around  in,  but  I  reckon  you'll  do 
the  best  you  can.  Joe,  let  me  take  a  few 
of  them  books  along  with  me,  "  he  added, 
nodding  toward  the  shelf.  And  the  shoe 
maker's  hand,  with  a  movement  as  quick  as 
the  frisk  of  a  squirrel's  tail,  flew  upon  the 
bench  at  his  side  and  rattled  the  tools,  as  if 
grabbing  for  a  hammer  to  throw  at  the 
head  of  the  outrageous  customer.  His  face 
was  hard  and  his  eyes  were  set  with  anger, 
and  if  for  a  moment  there  was  not  murder 


OLD  JOE  VARK.  185 

in  his  heart,  he  gave  me  a  bit  of  fine  acting. 
But  his  epileptic  resentment  passed  away 
with  a  jerk,  and  looking  up  at  the  dum- 
founded  Peters,  he  said,  "Bugg,  I  guess 
you'd  better  go. " 

"Why,  what's  the  matter,  Joe?" 

"Guess  you'd  better  go.  I  can  stand  to 
be  robbed  of  leather,  but  when  you  try  to 
extend  your  theft  to  the  things  that  make 
me  superior  to  you  ignorant  yaps,  I  feel  like 
mashing  your  head." 

"Your  driftwood  is  comin'  so  swift  that 
I  can't  ketch  it,  Joe." 

"He  means  that  you  must  not  touch  his 
books,"  I  put  in. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  Peters  replied. 
4 '  I'm  not  hankerin'  after  'em.  Just  thought 
I'd  take  a  few  of  'em  along  to  get  'em  out 
of  the  way.  Joe,  if  you  happen  down  in  my 
range  drap  in  and  see  Nan's  boy.  Tickle 
you  mighty  nigh  to  death." 

He  slouched  away,  and  the  shoemaker  re 
sumed  his  work.  I  had  been  sitting  there 
in  a  strong  draught  of  the  town's  atmos- 


i86  BOLANYO. 

phere,  with  two  characters  for  my  play;  and, 
taking  my  leave,  I  felt  that  I  hugged  a 
greater  possession  than  Peters  had  found 
when  he  tied  the  boots  together  and  threw 
them  across  his  shoulder. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

OLD    AUNT    PATSEY. 

C£  a  boy  in  his  yearning  to  have  Santa 
Claus  come,  I  went  early  to  bed  to 
force  the  dawning  of  another  day.     I 
resorted  to  the  tricks  that  men  have 
employed  to  induce  drowsiness;    I  counted 
sheep  bounding  over  a  fence,  a  hundred,  a 
thousand,  until  their  number  exceeded  the 
Patriarch's  fold,    and  yet  I  lay  there  wide 
awake,    with  my  nerves   starting  at  every 
noise,  before  it  reached   my  ears.      I  strove 
to  trace  the  filmy  thread   that  lies  between 
consciousness  and  sleep,  and  I  fancied  that 
it  was  a  raveling  from  a  rainbow,  with  one 
end  in  the  sunset,  the  other  in  the  sunrise. 
I   reached   a  place   where   the   thread  was 
broken  and  now  the   world  was  dark,  but, 
feeling  about,  I  found  the  two  ends  of  the 
187 


i88  BOLANYO. 

silken  line,  and  put  them  together,  and 
when  they  touched,  the  world  flashed  up  in 
a  blaze  of  light — the  sun  was  shining. 

No  exact  hour  had  been  fixed  for  the  meet 
at  the  Senator's  house,  .and  I  was  beset  by 
the  fear  that  a  desire  not  to  be  early  might 
make  me  late.  Common  sense  dictated  a 
middle  resort,  but  in  my  nervous  anxiety  I 
had  no  common  sense.  Why  so  sensitive 
and  timorous  now  when  I  had  been  so  bold 
a  few  days  before?  I  had  promised  the  negro 
preacher  and  myself  that  this  day  should  see 
the  end  of  a  relationship. 

I  set  out  earlier  than  the  time  I  had  fixed, 
expecting  to  loiter  along  the  road,  to  breathe 
sweet  air  beneath  the  roses  that  hung  above 
the  old  garden  walls;  but,  giving  no  heed  to 
the  roses,  I  passed  them  hurriedly,  as  a  hasty 
reader  skips  a  beautiful  sentence  in  eager 
ness  to  snatch  the  excitement  of  a  closing 
scene.  I  passed  the  lamp-post  and  thought 
of  the  negro's  black  hand,  a  knot  on  the  iron; 
I  came  abreast  of  the  old  chimney  and  the 
thicket,  the  lair  of  the  goblins  at  night. 


OLD  A  UNT  PA  TSE  Y.  189 

And  here  I  halted  to  gaze  at  the  Senator's 
house,  the  pillared  portico,  the  cool  yard, 
the  martin  box  on  a  tall  pole,  the  magnolia 
garden.  And  now  my  progress  toward  the 
gate  was  slow,  with  the  minute  and  sense 
less  observation  of  little  things;  a  bit  of 
sheep's  wool  on  a  brier  bush;  an  old  shoe 
half  buried  in  the  sandy  drain  beside  the 
road;  the  heavy  gate-latch,  made  by  a 
clumsy  blacksmith;  the  uneven  bricks  in 
the  short  walk  between  the  gate  and  the 
portico;  a  stone  and  a  shell  on  the  step, 
where  someone  had  cracked  a  nut. 

I  was  admitted  by  the  negress  whose 
motto  was  * '  suspicion. "  She  gave  me  a 
broad  grin  and  nodded  toward  the  parlor; 
and  I  heard  strange  voices  and  laughter. 
Just  as  I  reached  the  door,  Mrs.  Estell 
stepped  out  into  the  hall.  A  magnolia 
bloom  fell  from  her  hand,  and  she  laughed 
as  she  stooped  to  pick  it  up,  and  when  she 
looked  at  me  her  face  was  red,  though  not 
with  embarrassment,  but  with  stooping,  for 


IQO  BOLANYO. 

she  spoke  and  her  voice  was  deep  and  clear 
and  her  eyes  were  not  abashed. 

"Oh,  you  are  just  in  time,  Mr.  Belford. 
I  want  you  to  meet  some  friends  of  mine, 
and  my  aunt  is  here,  too.  I  know  you'll 
like  her,  she's  so  queer." 
"•  I  would  have  staid  to  ask  her  why  she 
supposed  me  to  be  attracted  by  queer  per 
sons,  but  she  touched  my  arm,  and  as  an 
automaton  I  turned  toward  the  parlor  and 
stepped  into  the  room,  to  meet  Mr.  Elkin, 
a  frail  and  timid-looking  young  fellow  with 
plastered  hair;  Miss  Rodney,  a  pinkish 
creature  of  uncertain  age,  the  "  splendid 
catch  "  which  Mrs.  Estell  had  set  aside  for 
me;  and  Mrs.  Braxon,  the  aunt.  She 
looked  queer,  and  I  could  not  have  denied 
that  she  interested  me.  She  was  very  tall, 
straight  and  stiff,  with  eyes  that  suggested 
a  savage.  Into  her  aged  mouth  the  arti 
fice  of  the  dentist  had  put  the  teeth  of 
youth,  and,  not  yet  accustomed  to  them, 
she  imposed  upon  her  lips  the  double  ex 
ertion  of  talking  with  her  jaws  shut. 


OLD  A  UNT  PA  TSE  Y.  191 

"Well,"  she  said,  looking  hard  at  me, 
"and  you  are  the  man  that  Giles  has  been 
telling  me  so  much  about?  But,  conscience 
alive,  he  ought  to  have  something  to  talk 
of  besides  politics." 

"You  are  his  favorite  sister,  I  believe," 
I  replied,  with  the  giggle  of  Miss  Rodney  in 
my  ears. 

"Do  you?  Well,  I  married  his  brother, 
if  that's  what  you  mean. " 

"Is  he  living?"  I  inquired. 

"Florence,"  she  said,  "it's  strange  that 
you  haven't  told  Mr.  What's-his-name  any 
thing  about  me.  Every  time  I  come  here 
I  come  as  a  stranger,  a  rank  stranger." 

"Why,  Aunt  Patsey,  I  told  him — " 

"She  told  me  a  great  deal  about  you, 
Mrs.  Braxon,"  I  put  in,  "but  my  mem 
ory  is,  you  might  say,  not  good." 

"Oh,  yes,  and  I  suppose  Giles  Talcom 
told  you  all  about  me,  too;  told  you  that  I 
was  his  favorite  sister,  didn't  he?  Well,  it's 
all  right.  Miss  Rodney,  what  are  you 
giggling  about?" 


1 92  BOLANYO. 

''Why,  nothing  at  all,  Mrs.  Braxon," 
the  young  woman  declared,  growing  pinker. 
The  old  lady  looked  at  Elkin,  and  he 
started  and  slammed  his  knees  together.  I 
glanced  at  Mrs.  Estell,  and  she  hid  her  eyes 
from  me,  afraid  to  laugh. 

"  Where  do  you  live?"  I  inquired  of  the 
old  lady. 

1 '  Up  in  the  Tennessee  hills,  and  every 
time  I  come  down  in  this  low  ground  I  want 
to  get  back.  The  laziest  folks  I  ever  saw 
in  my  life,  and  the  niggers  ain't  worth  their 
salt.  And  the  way  Giles  pets  that  black 
preacher  makes  me  sick,  a-buying  of  his 
church  bells  to  keep  folks  awake  at  night. 
I'd  make  him  chop  down  them  good-for- 
nothing  trees  out  there  and  plant  onions. 
That's  what  I'd  do  with  him.  Florence, 
where  did  Giles  go?" 

' '  Why,  he  sent  word  over  to  the  planta 
tion  to  have  his  hounds  brought  last  night, 
but,  somehow,  the  message  wasn't  deliv 
ered,  and  so  he  has  gone  after  them  him 
self.  We  want  to  start  from  here — " 


OLD  A  UNT  PA  TSE  Y.  193 

"After  the  hounds?     Start  where?" 

4  *  Fox-hunting. " 

The  old  woman  cleared  her  throat  with 
an  ach,  ach.  "Fox-hunting?  Is  it  possi 
ble  that  he  keeps  up  that  foolishness? 
Chasing  a  fox,  when  there's  so  much  to  be 
done  in  this  world?  I  read  in  a  paper  yes 
terday  that  a  woman  had  starved  to  death 
in  New  Orleans,  and  here  you  all  are,  go 
ing  to  chase  a  fox." 

"Why,  Mrs.  Braxon,"  the  young  man 
spoke  up,  "we  can't  help  that.  If  we  let 
the  fox  go  it  won't  bring  the  woman  back 
to  life." 

She  looked  at  him  and  his  knees  flew  to 
gether.  '  *  But  you  could  be  raising  some 
thing  for  folks  to  eat." 

"Yes,  ma'am,  but  we  raise  more  now 
than  we  can  sell." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  bow  and  a 
smirk  of  contempt.  "  More  than  you  can 
sell.  Yes,  of  course.  More  than  you  can 
sell  to  a  woman  that's  starving.  Yes,  of 
course." 
13 


194  BOLANYO. 

"But   nobody  starves  to   death   in   Bo- 
lanyo,  Aunt  Patsey,"  Mrs.  Estell  remarked. 
"We  take  care  of  our  poor;  and  it  was  a 
mere  accident  that  the  woman  starved  in 
New  Orleans." 

"Oh,  you  do?  A  mere  accident.  Of 
course.  Are  you  going  to  chase  a  fox?" 
the  old  woman  asked,  with  her  eyes  on 
Miss  Rodney. 

"I  have  been  invited  to  go,  and — " 

"Of  course.  But,  go  on,  and  don't  let 
anything  I  say  prevent  you.  I  staid  at 
home,  year  in  and  year  out,  and  never  went 
anywhere,  while  my  husband  was  a-gal- 
loping  over  the  country,  a-blowing  of  his 
horn  and  a-chasing  of  foxes;  and  folks  in  a 
town  not  more  than  twenty  miles  away 
were  as  hungry  as  they  could  be.  But, 
after  he  died,  I  didn't  stay  at  home,  I  tell 
you.  I  went  out  and  looked  for  hungry 
folks,  and  I  fed  'em,  too.  Talk  to  me 
about  chasing  a  fox." 

"Auntie,"  said  Mrs.  Estell,  smiling  upon 
the  old  lady,  indeed,  approaching  her  and 


OLD  A  UNT  PA  TSE  Y.  i 95 

bending  with  graceful  tenderness  over  her 
chair,  "you  try  to  make  people  believe  that 
you  are  hard  to  get  along  with,  but  you  are 
the  sweetest  thing.  She  snaps  and  snarls 
to  hide  the  tenderness  of  her  heart,  Mr. 
Belford." 

"  I  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  For  goodness' 
sake,  child,  take  your  hands  off  me.  Stop 
fussing  with  me.  Go  over  there  and  sit 
down.  A  body  would  think  that  I'm  so  old 
that  you  are  standing  here  ready  to  catch 
me  when  I  start  to  fall  over.  Go  along  with 
you!" 

Mrs.  Estell,  laughing,  pressed  her  radiant 
cheek  against  the  widow's  whitening  hair. 
4 4  I  like  to  have  half  tearful  fun  with  you, 
Aunt  Patsey,"  she  said. 

4 '  Oh,  you  do.  Well,  get  away  and  don't 
pretend  that  you  think  anything  of  me.  I 
have  no  money  to  leave  you. " 

Elkin  laughed.  The  old  woman  looked 
at  him  and  he  clapped  his  knees  together. 
"I — I — beg  your  pardon,"  he  stammered. 

"She's  so  delightful,"  said  Miss  Rodney, 


196  BOLANYO. 

leaning  toward  me.  ' '  Quite  a  character  for 
the  stage,  papa  says.  And  when  does  your 
house  open?" 

"Not  before  October,"  I  answered. 

"And  not  until  he  can  get  a  good  com 
pany,  "  said  Mrs.  Estell,  standing  in  front  of 
us.  ' '  I  have  enough  interest  in  the  house  to 
demand  that  much.  Oh,  there  comes  father 
with  the  hounds  and  I'm  not  ready  yet." 

She  ran  away,  and  though  the  sun  was 
in  the  window,  the  room  was  darker  now, 
and  a  shadow  seemed  to  lie  where  she  had 
stood.  We  heard  the  Senator's  horn  and 
the  impatient  cry  of  the  hounds. 

"  I'd  rather  hunt  a  bear  than  a  fox,"  said 
the  young  man.  * '  I  went  with  a  party  of 
fellows  down  in  the  canebrake  last  fall  and 
a  bear  killed  four  dogs.  Just  grabbed  'em 
up  like  this  (hugging  himself)  and  crushed 
'em.  Just  broke  their  bones.  Just  grabbed 
'em  up  this  way  and  mashed  'em.  Didn't 
look  like  it  was  any  trouble  at  all.  Just — 
just  squeezed  the  life  out  of  'em.  I  had — 
I  had  a  dog  named  Ring  —  great  big  dog — 


OLD  AUNT  PATSEY.  197 

and  he  grabbed  him  up  this  way,  the  bear 
did,  and  old  Ring  just  gave  one  howl  and 
that  was  the  end  of  it.  Bear  didn't  appear 
to  mind  it.  Just  seemed  like  he  was  enjoy 
ing  himself,  but  we  hadn't  agreed  to  keep 
him  in  all  the  dogs  he  wanted  to  kill,  so  we 
shot  him." 

"You  did?"  said  the  old  lady,  smirking 
at  him.  "  Do  tell.  And  you'd  rather  stand 
there  and  see  him  kill  those  poor  dogs  than 
to  chase  a  fox." 

'  'Oh,  I — I  don't  mean  that  I  like  to  see  the 
dogs  killed,  Mrs.  Braxon,  I  mean  I— 

' '  Would  rather  see  a  bear  with  his  arms 
full  of  poor  dogs  than  to  chase  a  fox.  Yes, 
I  know  what  you  mean." 

In  came  the  Senator.  He  bowed  to  the 
ladies,  cried  "Ha!"  to  the  young  man  and 
seized  my  hand  as  if  a  year  had  elapsed 
since  we  parted.  "  Belford,  I've  got  a  horse 
for  you  that  can  clear  any  fence  in  the  State. " 

"With  me  on  his  back?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  hope  so.  You  can  try,  you  know, 
and  if  you  can't  keep  your  seat  why  you 


ig8  BOLANYO. 

must  fall  as  easily  as  you  can.  Sister  Pat- 
sey,  you  look  as  bright  as  a  dollar." 

"Go  on  with  your  blarney,  Giles.  I've 
got  no  dollar  to  leave  to  you." 

"And  bless  your  life,  I'm  glad  of  it.  But 
it's  time  we  were  going.  Where's  Florence?" 

"Gone  to  get  ready  for  your  nonsense," 
Mrs.  Braxon  answered.  "Oh,  you  men! 
Not  half  of  you  are  worth  your  salt." 

"No,"  said  the  Senator.  "And  if  there 
comes  a  time  when  men  are  worth  their  salt 
and  women  are  worth  their  pepper,  human 
ity  will  be  well  seasoned,  eh,  Belford?  But 
we  must  be  making  a  move.  Elkin,  help 
Miss  Rodney  to  mount,  please." 

* '  Yes,  and  I  guess  I've  got  to  buckle  my 
girth  tighter,"  said  the  young  man.  "Come, 
Miss  Minnie,  and  let  me  help  you  up." 

Just  as  they  passed  out  there  came  a 
slow  step  down  the  hall.  ' '  Why,  it's  Estell !" 
cried  the  Senator.  ' '  Why,  hello,  Tom,  we 
didn't  expect  you  for  a  week.  And,  Sir, 
here's  your  Aunt  Patsey. " 

Estell  was  carrying  a  cane  in  his  right 


OLD  A  UNT  PA  TSE  Y.  199 

hand  and  he  stuck  out  one  finger  for  me  to 
shake.  But  when  in  the  same  manner  he 
presumed  to  greet  the  old  lady,  she  stormed 
at  him:  "Look  here,  Tom  Estell,  don't 
give  me  no  one  finger  to  shake.  Andrew 
Jackson  gave  me  his  whole  hand  when  I  was 
a  child,  and  I  want  no  one  finger  now. 
That's  like  it, "  she  added,  as  he  put  his  cane 
under  his  arm  and  gave  her  his  hand. 

Mrs.  Estell  entered  the  room.  "Why, 
you  old  surprise  party,"  she  cried.  He 
stepped  forward,  but,  catching  sight  of  her 
riding  habit,  he  halted. 

"What  does  all  this  mean?"  he  asked. 

1 '  Why,  we  were  going  fox-hunting,  dear. " 

"You — you  going?" 

"Why,  yes.      You  have  never  objected." 

"But  I  do  now." 

"Very  well,"  she  replied,  beginning  to 
pull  at  her  gloves. 

"Tom,"  cried  the  Senator,  "what  the 
devil — I  mean  the  deuce — is  the  matter 
with  you?" 

And  then  Aunt  Patsey  broke  out,  jump- 


200  BOLANYO. 

ing  from  her  chair  and  shaking  her  fin 
ger  at  Estell:  "You  are  trying  to  smother 
the  God-given  spirit  of  that  child,  and  you 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself.  You  hate 
to  see  her  run — you  want  to  see  her  dodder 
about  like  an  old  man.  What  earthly  harm 
can  there  be  in  her  going  fox-hunting?  Bet 
ter  men  than  you  ever  dared  be  have  chased 
foxes  and  have  let  their  wives  go,  too. 
Don't  you  dare  say  a  word  to  me — don't 
you  dare!" 

Estell  turned  about  and  strode  with  sullen 
step  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  the  Senator 
passing  him  without  saying  a  word.  I  was 
standing  at  the  door,  and  I  stepped  aside  to 
let  Mrs.  Estell  pass,  but  she  lingered  in  the 
parlor,  as  if  to  speak  to  her  aunt,  as  if,  in 
truth,  she  would  put  her  arms  about  the 
old  woman's  neck;  and  I  turned  my  back, 
to  face  the  State  Treasurer,  standing  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs.  Our  eyes  met,  but  he 
was  silent,  and  I  had  nothing  to  say.  Mrs. 
Estell  came  out  into  the  hall,  but  returned 
almost  instantly  to  the  old  woman,  and 


OLD  A  UNT  PA  TSE  Y.  20 1 

Estell  trod  wearily  to  the  upper  floor.  His 
wife  came  out,  and  she  looked  up  with 
duty's  self-conscious  smile. 

"May  I  speak  a  word?"  I  asked.  "Just 
one?" 

44 Two,"  she  answered. 

"I  promised  to  read  my  play  to  you." 

"Yes;  and  you  will — 

"Not  keep  my  promise." 

We  were  walking  slowly  toward  the  stair 
way,  she  slightly  in  advance.  But  now  her 
feet  were  quick,  until  she  reached  the  stair, 
and  then  she  halted,  turned  to  me,  and 
said: 

1 '  Mr.  Belford,  any  man  can  make  a  prom 
ise,  but  sometimes  it  requires  a  gentleman 
to  break  one." 

I  had  no  reply  to  make;  I  was  the  inter 
loper.  I  bowed  to  her,  and,  snatching  my 
hat  from  the  halltree,  I  passed  out  upon  the 
portico. 

"Yes,  I  am  mighty  sorry,"  the  Senator 
was  saying  to  Elkin  and  Miss  Rodney,  who 
sat  upon  their  horses  at  the  gate — "sorry 


202  BOLANYO. 

as  I  ever  was  in  my  life,  but  my  horse  stuck 
a  nail  in  his  foot  and  can  hardly  walk.  Of 
course  I  could  get  another  horse,  but  take 
Felix  out  of  the  chase  and  the  whole  thing 
falls  flat.  And  my  best  hound  is  sick,  too. 
Sometimes  it  does  seem  that  everything 
stands  in  the  way.  But  we'll  have  it,  now, 
very  soon.  Get  down,  and  stay  to  dinner. 
Ah,  Belford,  you  going?  Well,  I'll  see  you 
in  a  day  or  two. " 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    PLAY. 

I  DREADED  the  embarrassment  of  meet 
ing  the  Senator  again;  and  it  was  with 
a  sense   of  nervousness  that  I  looked 
from  my  office  window,  the  next  morn 
ing,  to  see  him  getting  out  of  his  buggy. 
He  came  briskly  up  the  stairs,  spoke  heartily 
to  someone  whom  he  met  on  the  landing, 
halted  at  my  open  door,  and,  hat  in  hand, 
made  me  a  sweeping  bow. 

4 '  Ha,  early  to  work  is  the  thing, "  he  said, 
stepping  into  the  room  and  glancing  about. 
"More  pictures  of  famous  players,  I  see. 
Well,  we'll  have  them  strutting  about  our 
stage  the  first  thing  they  know.  How  do 
you  feel?"  he  asked,  drawing  up  a  chair  and 
sitting  down. 


203 


204  BOLANYO. 

'  *  First  rate — too  well,  I  might  say.  This 
air  makes  me  content  to  sit  and  dream." 

4 'Good;  it  is  better  to  find  contentment 
even  in  a  dream  than  to  snap  our  nerves  in 
two  with  chasing  what  we  might  regard 
substantial  happiness.  Why,  confound  it 
all,  Belford,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  sub 
stantial  happiness.  Anything  substantial 
is  too  material,  too  gross;  and  happiness  is 
a  certain  spiritual  condition  of  the  mind. 
Therefore,  I  say,  let  the  old  South  dream  if 
she  feels  like  it.  There  used  to  be  an  old 
fellow  that  lived  about  here — Mose  Parish. 
Well,  the  time  came  for  Mose  to  die;  but 
he  wasn't  scared,  not  a  bit  of  it.  A  preacher 
came  to  talk  to  him,  and  old  Mose  listened 
for  a  while,  and  then  he  said:  'Oh,  no,  I 
never  did  much  of  anything — never  built  a 
steamboat  nor  a  house,  but  I've  had  a  good 
deal  of  fun,  and  I  hold  that  when  a  man  is 
having  fun  he  can't  have  it  all  alone;  he's 
helping  some  other  fellow. ' " 

We  talked  about  hundreds  of  things,  and 
touched  occasionally  upon  our  business  ven- 


THE  PLAY.  205 

ture,  but  nothing  led  to  a  subject  which  I  felt, 
and  which  he  seemed  to  feel,  was  too  delicate 
to  be  mentioned.  He  gossiped  of  young  El- 
kin's  affection  for  Miss  Rodney;  he  said  that 
Elkin's  love  put  him  in  mind  of  an  ass  with 
gilded  ears.  He  spoke  of  the  coming  elec 
tion  and  the  surety  with  which  he  and  Tom 
Estell  would  win;  but  when  he  took  his  leave 
he  did  not  invite  me  to  call  at  the  house. 
I  met  him  day  after  day,  in  the  office,  in  the 
street,  in  the  rotunda  of  the  hotel;  and  he 
always  greeted  me  with  a  warm  and  earnest 
cordiality,  but  at  parting  he  would  say,  "I'll 
see  you  again  soon;"  and  never  that  I 
should  come  to  see  him. 

I  walked  a  great  deal,  musing  over  my 
play,  and  more  than  once  in  rebellion  my 
feet  wandered  from  their  usual  path  to  tread 
the  sacred  and  forbidden  ground  that  lay  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  Senator's  home. 
Near  the  close  of  day,  I  sometimes  saw  him 
sitting  on  the  portico,  with  his  chair  tipped 
back,  his  feet  against  a  classic  pillar,  smok 
ing  his  pipe — a  vandalic  American  indulging 


206  BOLANYO. 

a  national  posture  to  the  shame  of  a  Gre 
cian  memory.  Once  I  saw  his  daughter 
standing  near  him,  where  the  fading  sunlight 
fell,  gazing  afar  off,  shading  her  eyes  with 
her  hand.  And  she  might  have  seen  me 
had  I  not  bent  behind  a  bush;  had  I  been 
less  a  thief. 

One  hot  afternoon  the  Senator  came  into 
the  office,  fanning  himself  with  his  hat. 

"No  dreaming  now,  Belford,"  said  he. 
"It's  too  hot  even  to  doze.  What's  all 
that  you've  got  spread  out  there?" 

"Our  play,"  I  answered. 

' '  Oh,  yes.  And,  by  George,  there  seems 
to  be  enough  of  it.  Let  me  hear  a  chapter 
or  two.  Isn't  in  chapters,  though,  is  it? 
Fire  away  and  let  me  hear  what  it  sounds 
like.  You  look  like  a  commissioner  of 
deeds,  with  all  this  stuff  scattered  about  you. 
But  go  ahead." 

"I'd  rather  wait,  Senator,  until  it's  com 
pleted.  In  fact,  I'd  rather  you'd  wait  and 
see  it  played,"  I  replied,  remembering  what 
he  had  said  about  elevating  the  stage  and 


THE  PLAY.  207 

fearing  that  he  might  object  to  some  of  my 
characters. 

"All  right.  But  just  now  you  said  our 
play.  What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"I  mean  that  a  half  interest  belongs  to 
you." 

"Why,  Lord  bless  you,  my  boy,  I  don't 
want  to  rob  you." 

"And  I  don't  intend  that  you  shall  rob 
yourself.  You  have  given  me  the  oppor 
tunity  to  do  the  work,  you  have  — " 

"Hold  on,  Belford.  We  are  partners  in 
this  house.  You  are  doing  your  share. 
Why,  Sir,  haven't  you  secured  the  Lamptons 
to  play  here  a  whole  week  during  our  county 
fair?  And  doesn't  that  newspaper  notice  they 
sent  along  say  that  they  are  the  finest  rep 
resentation  of  dramatic  talent  now  on  the 
road?  Haven't  you  signed  a  contract  with 
Sanderson  Hicks  to  give  us  the  Lady  of 
Lyons?  And  I  want  to  tell  you  that  a  man 
who  saw  such  opportunities  and  seized  them 
by  the  forelock  is  doing  his  duty  all  right. 
Oh,  it's  no  laughing  matter,  Sir." 


208  BOLANYO. 

"That's  all  very  well,  Senator,  but  you 
are  to  own  half  the  play.  I  want  you  to 
look  after  the  business  end  of  it." 

"All  right,  Sir;  all  right.  Yes,  it  would 
be  better  to  have  some  man  take  hold  of 
that  part  of  it — some  man,  you  under 
stand,  who  isn't  afraid  to  insist  upon  his 
rights.  And  Belford,"  he  added,  putting  his 
hand  on  my  shoulder,  "  if  I  hadn't  insisted 
on  mine,  they  would  have  trampled  me 
under  foot  long  ago.  Yes,  Sir  (stepping 
back  and  shaking  his  hat),  long  ago.  Have 
you  decided  as  to  who  shall  have  it?" 

'  *  Well,  it's  easy  enough  for  me  to  decide. 
But  the  decision  of  the  other  party  might 
not  be  so  easy  to  get." 

4 'Oh,  there  won't  be  any  trouble  about 
that.  No,  Sir;  that  is,  if  they  want  to  put 
on  a  good  play.  We  have  something  here, 
Sir  (slapping  his  hand  upon  the  manuscript), 
that  ought  to  stir  the  dramatic  world  from 
center  to  circumference.  Oh,  you  may  smile, 
but  it  will,  for  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  have 
never  been  associated  with  a  failure.  And 


THE  PL  A  Y.  209 

there's  a  good  deal  in  that;  as  sure  as  you 
live  there  is.  Luck  begets  luck,  and  failure 
suckles  a  failure.  Yes,  Sir.  Have  you 
made  any  overtures?" 

4 '  Not  exactly.  I  wrote  to  Copeland  Mof- 
fet  and  send  him  a  scenario — 

-A  what?" 

"An  outline  of  the  piece.  And  he  writes 
that  he  will  be  in  Memphis  on  the  I7th  of 
next  month,  and  that  he  would  like  to  hear 
the  play." 

' '  Of  course  he  would.  We  knew  that  all 
the  time,.  We'll  hop  on  a  boat  and  go 
up  there.  Good  man,  is  he?" 

"One  of  the  best;  he  doesn't  do  things  by 
halves." 

"All  right,  Sir,  he's  our  man,  that  is,  if 
he's  willing  to  pay  for  a  good  thing.  Well, 
I  believe  I'll  go  on  out  home.  It's  cooler 
there.  By  the  way,  come  out  with  me. 
There's  no  one  on  the  place  except  Sister 
Patsey,  and  I'm  lonesome.  Come  on,  we'll 
ride  out." 

I  was  afraid  to  look  at  him;    I  was  afraid 


210  BOLANYO. 

to  hesitate,  to  frame  an  excuse,  and  with 
out  saying  a  word  I  went  down  stairs  with 
him  and  got  into  the  buggy. 

He  did  not  drive  directly  to  his  home;  he 
halted  at  several  places — in  front  of  a  law 
yer's  office,  a  butcher's  shop,  to  ask  advice 
concerning  his  political  contest,  a  shrewd 
way  to  flatter  and  stimulate  a  lax  supporter. 
We  drove  to  a  wagonmaker's  shop,  off  in  the 
edge  of  the  town,  and  when  the  workman 
had  been  fed  with  big  words,  we  set  out  at 
a  brisk  trot,  with  a  gang  of  boys  behind  us, 
shouting  in  a  cloud  of  dust.  Ahead  I  could 
see  nothing  but  the  sun-dazzled  roadway, 
sloping  down  into  the  open  country,  but  we 
turned  a  corner  thick  with  cherry  trees  and 
the  Senator's  house  leaped  into  view. 

It  seemed  a  long  time  since  I  had  heard 
the  click  of  the  gate-latch;  since  I  had  stood 
upon  the  stone  steps  to  breathe  the  cool, 
sweet  air  of  the  hall. 

"  I  think  the  library  is  about  the  coolest 
place  in  the  house, "  said  the  Senator.  '  'Step 
in,  and  I'll  see  if  I  can  find  some  fans. 


THE  PLAY.  211 

There  are  some  on  the  table.  Take  that  big 
palm  leaf.  Pardon  me  if  I  unbutton  my 
collar.  I'm  as  hot  as  a  dog  in  August 
with  a  tin  pan  tied  to  his  tail.  But  you  ap 
pear  to  be  cool  enough." 

"I  didn't  expect  to  hear  you  Southern 
ers  complain  of  the  heat.  I  thought  you 
could  stand  it." 

"We  do  stand  it,  but  we  complain.  I 
doubt  whether  an  Anglo-Saxon  can  ever  learn 
to  like  real  hot  weather.  Oh,  we  prate  about 
the  sunny  South  and  we  like  sunshine,  but, 
by  George,  Sir,  we  hug  the  shade.  Have 
you  got  a  pretty  good  plot  for  your  play?" 

"Yes,  I  think  so." 

"  We  must  have  a  good  plot,  you  know; 
we  must  have  everything  turn  out  all  right. 
Any  fighting  in  it?" 

' '  Well,  there  are  several  spirited  scenes. " 

"That's  good.  But  it  strikes  me  that 
there  ought  to  be  some  sort  of  a  fight.  One 
fellow  ought  to  call  another  fellow  a  liar,  or 
something  of  the  sort.  It  would  be  a  good 
thing  for  a  fellow  to  snatch  out  his  pistol 


212  BOLANYO. 

and  have  it  grabbed  and  turned  against  him, 
don't  you  see?  That  sort  of  a  thing  always 
catches  the  people." 

'  *  But  you  advocated  the  elevation  of  the 
stage,  don't  you  remember? " 

He  got  out  of  his  chair,  and  walked  up 
and  down  the  room,  with  his  collar  unbut 
toned,  his  broad,  black  cravat  hanging  loose. 

4 'That's  the  point,  Belford;  that's  the  very 
point.  To  elevate  the  stage  is  to  make  it 
natural.  Why,  last  season  an  actor  ruined 
a  play  for  this  town  by  drawing  a  pistol  with 
his  left  hand." 

'  'But  that  was  not  so  very  unnatural, "  I  re 
plied.  ' '  He  might  have  been  left-handed. 
Many  a  left-handed  man  has  had  a  fight." 

He  paused  in  his  walk,  to  stand  before 
me,  and  thoughtfully  to  balance  himself  al 
ternately  upon  his  heels  and  toes. 

"But,  Belford,  that's  not  the  point.  Of 
course  there  may  be  a  left-handed  man  in  a 
fight,  but  nine  chances  to  one  a  man  is  right- 
handed,  and  the  stage  must  take  the  course 
that  is  the  most  probable.  No,  Sir,  you  don't 


THE  PLAY.  213 

want  to  shock  a  critical  sense  of  fitness  by 
having  a  man  pull  a  pistol  with  his  left  hand. 
Such  breaks  always  tend  to  wound  a  sensi 
tive  nature.  Any  man  in  your  drama  pull 
a  pistol  that  way,  Belford? " 

4  '  No,  if  a  pistol  is  drawn  at  all  it  shall  be 
in  the  accepted  form. " 

"All  right,"  he  said,  resuming  his  walk. 
"Any  ragged  girl  talk  like  a  clodhopper  un 
til  she  is  insulted  and  then  talk  like  a  prin 
cess?  Anybody  say  '  stronger? '  No  hu 
man  being  except  a  fool  on  the  stage  ever 
said  'stronger'  for  stranger.  Any  fat  woman 
in  short  skirts  trying  to  be  a  girl?  Any 
tramp  with  more  ability  than  an  ancient 
philosopher?  Any  female  detective  that 
doesn't  know  she  loves  a  suspected  thief 
until  she  has  had  him  put  in  jail?  Got 
any  of  those  things?  " 

"I'll  take  an  oath  that  I  have  none  of 
those  tantalizing  features,  Senator." 

"Then,  Sir,  it  will  be  a  go.  Yes,  Sir, 
the  world  can't  stop  it.  Why,  come  in, 
Patsey.  Remember  Mr.  Belford,  don't  you? " 


2i4  BOLANYO. 

I  shook  hands  with  the  old  lady,  placed  a 
chair  for  her  and  gave  her  my  fan,  and  she 
rewarded  me  with  an  old-time  courtesy. 

"  Gracious  me,"  she  said,  "it's  so  hot 
down  here  that  I  wonder  everybody  doesn't 
take  to  the  hills.  I  wouldn't  live  in  this  flat 
country." 

"Why,  Sister  Patsey,"the  Senator  spoke 
up,  "  Bolanyo  is  on  a  hill." 

"A  hill?  Giles,  you  don't  know  what  a 
real  hill  looks  like,  it's  been  so  long  since 
you  saw  one.  Why,  where  I  live  you  can 
sometimes  look  down  on  a  cloud." 

"Yes,  and  it's  a  good  deal  better  to  live 
above  a  cloud  than  to  be  under  one,  Sister 
Patsey." 

"Now,  what  does  he  mean?  One  of  his 
sly  tricks,  I'll  be  bound.  I  never  come 
down  here  that  everybody  ain't  up  to  tricks 
or  running  for  office,  but  I  do  reckon  they 
are  one  and  the  same  thing.  Sakes  alive, 
and  the  laziest  folks  that  ever  moped  on 
the  face  of  the  earth.  And  that  good-for- 
nothing  wretch  that  calls  himself  the  Noto- 


THE  PLAY.  215 

rious  Bugg,  a-talking  about  his  sons-in-law 
a-shaking  all  the  time.  He  came  here  yes 
terday  and  wanted  meat,  the  lazy  whelp. 
Well,  I  would  have  given  him  scalding 
water,  and  a  heap  of  it." 

"But  you  didn't,  Sister  Patsey,"  the  Sen 
ator  spoke  up.  "You  called  him  back  and 
gave  him  a  bag  of  sweet  cakes." 

"I  did,  eh?  I  sent  them  to  the  poor 
little  children,  and  if  he  takes  a  bite  of  one 
of  them  cakes  I  hope  it  will  choke  him  to 
death.  He  says  he  doesn't  want  to  go  to 
the  hills  and  catch  a  new-fangled  disease. 
Why,  plague  take  his  picture,  I've  lived  in 
the  hills  all  my  life.  If  he  comes  again 
while  I'm  on  the  place  I'll  scald  him.  I'll 
do  it,  Giles,  as  sure  as  he  comes,  and  you'd 
better  tell  him  to  stay  away." 

"If  he  comes  again,  Sister  Patsey,  you'll 
give  him  hot  cakes  instead  of  hot  water." 

"Did  you  hear  that,  Mr.  Belford?  Did 
you  hear  that?"  the  old  lady  snapped.  "Ah, 
ah,  I  do  think,  Giles,  you  are  the  most  ag 
gravating  man  I  ever  saw,  except  your 


216  BOLANYO. 

brother,  and  he  almost  worried  the  life  out 
of  me." 

'  *  But  he  is  dead,  Sister  Patsey,  and  you 
are  still  enjoying  pretty  fair  health.  Yes, 
he  went  first." 

The  Senator  glanced  at  me  with  a  wink; 
the  old  lady  caught  his  twinkle  of  mischief, 
and,  throwing  back  her  head,  she  laughed 
until  the  tears  ran  out  of  her  eyes. 

1  '  Belford, "  said  the  Senator,  <  'the  evening 
breeze  has  sprung  up.  Suppose  we  sit  out 
on  the  portico.  And,  by  the  way,  I've  got 
some  tobacco  raised  from  Havana  seed. 
I'll  get  it." 

4 'Bring  me  a  pipe,  too,  Giles,"  the  old 
lady  called  after  him.  "I'm  not  going  to 
be  left  out,  and  you  needn't  think  it,  either." 

When  the  Senator  had  strode  off  down 
the  hall,  she  turned  to  me  with  a  quick 
eagerness  and  said:  "He  is  almost  dying 
to  apologize  to  you  for  Tom  Estell's  be 
havior,  and  he  doesn't  know  how  to  get 
at  it.  I  never  saw  a  man  so  cut  up.  And 
he  thought  he  could  get  at  it  better  out 


THE  PLAY.  217 

here,  but  by  the  way  he  fidgets  about  I 
know  he  hasn't.  Now,  there,  don't  you  say  a 
word,  Sir,  but  let  me  talk.  I  don't  know 
what's  the  matter  with  Estell,  I  really  don't. 
Now,  what  earthly  harm  could  there  have 
been  in  her  going  fox-hunting,  and  her 
father  along,  too?  No,  I  don't  understand 
him.  Why,  he  must  think  that  a  woman 
is  a  fool  to  be  willing  to  stay  at  home  all 
the  time  just  because  he's  old." 

"Why  did  she  marry  him?"  I  could  not 
help  but  ask. 

She  snapped  her  eyes  and  cleared  her 
throat.  "Ah,  Lord,  it  distressed  me  nearly 
to  death.  Why  did  she,  indeed?  Giles 
was  the  cause  of  it.  He  picked  out  a  nice 
old  gentleman  for  his  daughter's  husband — 
a  man  of  high  family,  a  good  politician. 
She  cried  over  it,  with  her  head  in  my  lap, 
but  Giles  didn't  see  a  tear,  and  she  wouldn't 
let  me  say  a  word  to  him.  And,  to  tell  the 
truth,  I  didn't  think  it  was  so  very  bad;  and 
it  wasn't  until  he  got  to  be  so  cranky.  She 
always  was  a  peculiar  child;  and  I  reckon 


2i8  BOLANYO. 

after  all  she  made  up  her  mind  that  she 
might  as  well  marry  one  man  as  another,  so 
far  as  love  was  concerned.  But  just  look 
at  me,  a-sitting  up  here  and  telling  of  things 
that  I  oughtn't  to  say  a  word  about.  Here 
he  comes.  Giles,  did  you  bring  my  pipe? 
Well,  it's  a  good  thing  you  did,  Sir. " 

Out  in  the  breeze  that  came  stirring 
through  the  magnolia  garden  we  sat  and 
smoked,  the  Senator  with  his  chair  tipped 
back  and  his  feet  high  up  against  a  fluted 
column.  We  talked  in  pleasant  and  almost 
confidential  freedom,  of  many  a  home  in 
terest,  both  solemn  and  humorous,  but  the 
name  of  the  young  woman  lay  under  a  silence 
that  no  one  dared  to  disturb.  When  I  arose 
to  take  my  leave  they  urged  me  to  stay  to 
supper,  but  my  heart  had  grown  heavy  with 
the  approach  of  night,  and,  with  a  lie  in  self- 
defense,  I  pleaded  an  engagement  in  the 
town. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A   SLOW    STEP   ON   THE   STAIRS. 

IN  the  cool  of  the  morning,  and  often  at 
night  when  the  gulf  breeze  was  blow 
ing,  I   leaned  back   from   my  labor  to 
muse  upon  the  Senator's  peculiar  atti 
tude  toward  me.     A  certain  sort  of  inno 
cence  or  honor  had  unquestionably  blunted 
his  eyesight   and  wrapped  his  reason  in  a 
silken  gauze,  but  he  had  seen  and  felt  the 
interference  of  his  daughter's  husband.   And 
now   why   should   he  have   pressed   me  to 
come  again  to  his  house,  even  though  the 
wife  were  away?     The  old  woman  had  said 
that  he  was  trying  to  find  a  way  that  might 
lead    to    an    easy    apology.       Apology    for 
what?      A    husband's    clumsy    resentment. 
And  did  he  not  know  that  my  entering  the 
house  again  could  easily  be  construed  as  a 
219 


220  BOLANYO. 

connivance  on  his  part?  The  politician  is 
so  absorbed  a  student  of  man  and  his  mas 
culine  ways  that  sometimes  he  may  be  for 
getful  of  the  delicate  film  that  surrounds  a 
woman's  name.  But  in  the  South  a  wom 
an's  name  is  so  secure  that  what  in  colder 
regions  might  be  a  film  is  here  a  sheet  of 
steel;  and  overconfidence  might  seem  a  want 
of  due  consideration. 

One  evening  I  heard  a  slow  and  heavy 
step  on  the  stair;  and  I  waited,  annoyed 
and  nervous  with  the  deliberate  and  solemn 
approach  of  the  unwelcome  visitor.  I 
counted  the  steps,  wondering  when  they 
would  cease.  I  threw  down  my  pen  and 
got  out  of  my  chair.  There  was  a  shuffling 
of  awkward  feet  at  the  open  door. 

"Come  in,  Washington,"  I  cried,  and 
when  he  had  entered  I  turned  angrily  upon 
him. 

* '  Oh,  you  have  come  to  reproach  me,  to 
prove  to  my  face  that  I  am  a  liar." 

He  had  dropped  his  hat  upon  entering  the 


A  SLOW  STEP  ON  THE  STAIKS.         221 

door,  and  now  he  stood  with  his  head  bowed 
meekly. 

"Mr.  Belford,  if  your  heart  smites  you, 
don't  blame  me." 

"But  you  have  come  to  bid  it  smite  me." 

"No,  but  to  ease  it  if  it  has  been  smiting 
you." 

"Ah,  sit  down,  Washington." 

"I  prefer  to  stand." 

"But  pick  up  your  hat.  Your  humility 
embarrasses  me." 

"Let  it  lie  there,  Mr.  Belford." 

"Well,  can't  you  do  something?  Damn 
it—" 

' '  Mr.  Belford,  I  don't  ask  you  to  respect 
me,  but  I  command  you  to  respect  my  holy 
calling." 

"Rot!  Well,  go  on;  I  do  respect  it.  I 
beg  your  pardon.  But  why  do  you  come 
here  to  hit  me  with  the  moral  sandbag  of  a 
priest?  Don't  you  know  that  any  calling 
can  be  made  offensive?" 

4 '  The  gospel  is  always  offensive  to  the 
sinner." 


222  BOLANYO. 

' '  Look  here,  you  black  impostor,  I'll  not 
put  up  with  your  insolence.  Get  out." 

He  stepped  backward  to  the  door,  took 
up  his  hat,  put  it  under  his  arm,  and  bowed 
to  me. 

"Wait  a  moment,  Washington.  Con 
found  it,  you  always  make  me  strut  and 
talk  like  an  actor.  Let's  get  down  off  our 
high  horses  and  turn  them  loose  to  graze. 
What  did  you  come  to  say?" 

"I  came  to  beg  you  not  to  be  worried 
because  you  were  not  able  to  keep  your 
word  with  me." 

'  *  That's  kind,  but  how  do  you  know  I  was 
not  able  to  keep  it?" 

"Old  Miss  Patsey  told  me  that  the  Sen 
ator  brought  you  home  with  him." 

"And  you  know  that  she  was  not  at 
home." 

' '  Yes,  I  knew  that  she  was  over  at  the 
State  capital,  with  her  husband." 

"They  didn't  tell  me  where  she  was." 

"No,    it  was  not  necessary.     They  do 


A  SLOW  STEP  ON  THE  STAIRS.         223 

not  blame  you,"  he  added,  after  a  moment's 
pause. 

"Then  you  are  the  only  one  who  does 
blame  me,  except,  perhaps,  the  Treasurer." 

"Yes,  the  Treasurer  who  locked  up  the 
money  of  the  State  but  forgot  that  a  dia 
mond  was  within  reach  of — " 

"A  thief,"  I  suggested,  and  he  bowed  his 
head. 

"Washington,"  said  I,  "you  tell  me  that 
the  Senator  is  blind  and  that  the  young 
woman  herself  does  not  suspect — "  He 
shut  me  off  with  his  uplifted  hand. 

1 '  What  I  said  then  and  what  might  exist 
now  are  two  different  things." 

"Ah,  then  she  does  know  now;  she  has 
gathered  some  of  the  wisdom  that  you  have 
strewn  about.  You  had  seized  the  oppor 
tunity  to  be  wise,  and  I  had  hoped  that  you 
would  be  harmless.  But  your  wisdom  is 
offensive.  It  seems  that  you  would  rejoice 
to  have  a  hold  on  me." 

"  For  what  purpose,  Mr.  Belford?" 

"Well,  it  isn't  very  clearly  defined." 


224  BOLANYO. 

"  No,  Sir,  and  it  never  can  be.  Perhaps, 
after  all,  my  discovery,  if  you  please  to  call 
it  such,  wasn't  due  to  wisdom  but  to  an 
animal  instinct.  And  even  then  it  was  a 
venture.  You  could  have  denied  it  better. " 

He  came  walking  slowly  forward,  with 
his  eyes  fixed  upon  my  writing-table. 

"That  is  one  thing  I  can't  learn  to  do 
well, "  he  said,  gazing  at  my  work.  « *  My 
hand  was  too  hard  and  stiff  from  labor  be 
fore  I  went  to  school. " 

"Then  you  don't  write  your  sermons?" 

"No,  Sir,  and  Peter  didn't  write  his." 

"But  you  went  to  a  college  and  Peter 
didn't." 

"Ah,  but  Paul  was  learned  of  men,  and 
Paul  was  the  Master's  greatest  follower. " 

' '  Washington,  you  are  surely  a  remark 
able  man.  How  old  were  you  at  the  time 
you  entered  the  university?" 

"I  don't  know,  Mr.  Belford;  I  don't  know 
how  old  I  am  now." 

"Well,  I  have  fought  against  you,  but  I 


A  SLOW  STEP  ON  THE  STAIRS.          225 

can't  help  believing  that  you  are  sincere. 
Here  are  five  dollars  for  your  church." 

4  *  Thankee,  Sah;  bleeged  ter  yer,  Sah. 
I — I — I  am  profoundly  grateful,  Sir,"  he 
hastened  to  add,  bowing  in  humiliation. 
"You  must  pardon  the  rude  echo  of  my 
father's  tongue.  Good-night. " 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

TO    MEET   THE   MANAGER. 

THE  Senator  went  with  me  to  Mem 
phis  to  meet  Copeland  Maffet.      I 
was   nervous    and    apprehensive    of 
failure,  but  the  old  gentleman  was 
steady  and  strong  with  the  assurance  of  suc 
cess.      "You  are  worried,"  he  said  to  me  as 
we  stood  at  the  bow  of  the  steamer.    *  *  Throw 
it  off,  for  you  are  now  associated  with  a  man 
who  has  never  been  introduced  to  a  failure. 
No,  Sir,  and  they  can't  down  us.     When  I 
first  came  out  for  office  they  told  me  that  I 
had  no  earthly  show.     And  what  did  I  do? 
I  took  one  fellow  by  the  shoulders,  turned 
him  round  and  kicked  him  off  the  court 
house  steps.      One  of  my  friends?     Yes,  he 
claimed  he  was,  but  let  me  tell  you,  Belford, 
that  a  man's  gone  if  he  lets  his  so-called 
226 


TO  MEET  THE  MANAGER.  227 

friends  run  to  him  with  discouragements. 
The  only  friend  worthy  of  the  name  is  the 
man  who  doesn't  believe  you  can  be  beaten. 
I'd  rather  have  a  strong  enemy  than  a  weak 
friend." 

We  found  Maffet  waiting  for  us  at  a  hotel. 
The  Senator  greeted  him  out  of  the  gor- 
geousness  of  his  effusive  nature,  and  refused 
to  be  daunted  by  the  cool,  business  air  of 
the  manager. 

"Mr.  Maffet,"  said  the  Statesman,  "we 
have  brought  you  something,  Sir,  that  will 
astonish  you.  And,  Sir,  you'll  not  regret 
that  you  came  all  the  way  from  New  York 
to  get  a  chance  to  put  in  your  bid." 

"I  have  other  business  that  brought  me 
here,  Mr.—" 

"That's  all  right,  but  you'll  forget  all 
about  your  other  business  before  we  are 
done  with  you.  Ah,  Belford,  I've  got  a 
little  knocking  round  to  do,  and  I'll  leave 
you  to  read  your  play  to  Mr.  Maffet.  Good 
old  name.  By  the  way,  Mr.  Maffet,  are 
you  related,  Sir,  to  the  Maffets  of  Virginia?" 


228  BOLANYO. 

' '  I  think  not.  My  people  settled  in  Ver 
mont,"  said  the  manager. 

"Same  old  family,  Sir;  best  stock  in 
England.  Won't  you  join  us  in  a  drink  of 
some  sort,  Sir?" 

"No,  thank  you,  I've  just  got  up  from 
the  table." 

"Ah,  yes,  Sir.  But  make  yourself  per 
fectly  at  home  in  this  town.  I  know  a  great 
many  people  here,  and  all  my  friends  will 
be  glad  to  welcome  you.  And  you'll  find 
my  friend  here  (motioning  toward  me)  as 
bright  as  a  judge  and  as  straight  as  a  string. 
Well,  I'll  be  back  by  the  time  you  get 
through  with  your  reading." 

I  went  with  the  manager  to  his  room, 
and  if  he  had  been  cool  before,  he  now  was 
freezing. 

"Well,  go  ahead." 

I  read  the  first  act,  glancing  at  him  from 
time  to  time;  but  no  change  passed  over  his 
implacable  countenance.  He  sat  with  his 
eyes  shut. 

"Go  ahead." 


TO  MEET  THE  MANAGER.  229 

I  read  the  second  act;  but  the  droll  rep 
resentatives  of  a  fun-growing  soil  did  not 
crack  the  crust  of  his  countenance. 

''Well,  go  on." 

I  had  now  lost  hope,  and  with  scarcely  a 
pause  I  hurried  to  the  end  of  the  last  act. 
He  opened  his  eyes,  got  up,  walked  to  the 
window,  looked  out,  whistled  softly  and 
then  turned  to  me. 

"You've  got  some  great  people  there. 
The  comedy  part  is  excellent." 

"Ah,  you  don't  laugh  at  comedy,"  I 
was  bold  enough  to  declare. 

"Well,  not  when  I'm  buying  it.  Let  me 
have  it  a  moment." 

He  stepped  forward  with  a  look  of  inter 
est  in  his  eyes,  and  took  the  play. 

"In  Magnolia  Land,  by — what's  this? 
By  The  Elephant?  What  do  you  mean  by 
that?" 

"My  pen  name." 

"Oh,  it's  all  right  enough;  odd,  and  that 
counts." 

"And  if  you  decide  to  take  the  play,    I 


230  BOLANYO. 

don't  want  my  name  known;  and  if  any 
speculation  should  arise  as  to  who  the  Ele 
phant  may  be,  you  are  to  say  you  don't 
know,  even  if  anyone  should  assert  positively 
that  I  am  the  man.  I  want  it  to  be  a  win 
ner  before  I  acknowledge  it." 

44  All  right.  It  will  raise  newspaper  talk, 
and  that  would  help.  Yes,  I'll  agree  to 
put  it  on  if  we  can  come  to  terms,  and 
especially  if  you'll  consent  to  consider  the 
suggestions  which  I  may  send  to  you.  A 
play,  you  know,  is  never  finished.  I'll  read 
it  over  carefully  and  make  notes.  As  this 
is  your  first  venture  you  can't  very  well 
expect  an  advance  royalty." 

I  had  not  expected  it,  and  I  did  not  ask 
it.  Indeed,  I  was  delighted  with  the  pros 
pect  of  a  production,  and  I  began  to  think 
that  there  must  be  something  in  my  alliance 
with  a  man  who  never  had  made  the  ac 
quaintance  of  a  failure.  We  agreed  upon 
a  percentage  of  gross  receipts,  and  went 
down  stairs  to  dictate  the  contract  to  the 
hotel  stenographer.  And  just  as  we  were 


TO  MEET  THE  MANAGER.  231 

ready   for   his   name  the    Senator   walked 
in. 

4 '  We  insist  that  it  shall  be  put  on  in  good 
shape,"  said  he,  assuming  that  the  deal  had 
of  course  been  made.  "Let  me  see  the 
contract.  Yes,"  he  said,  when  he  had 
looked  at  the  top,  the  middle  and  the  bot 
tom,  "that  appears  to  be  about  the  proper 
thing.  Just  let  me  put  my  name  on  it. 
But  we  must  have  witnesses,  eh?  Well, 
you  just  wait  till  I  go  out  and  bring  in  two 
of  as  fine  gentlemen  as  you  ever  saw,  from 
two  of  our  oldest  families,  Sir.  One  of 
them  can  write  as  fine  a  hand  as  you  can 
catch  up  with  anywhere;  he  used  to  be  Clerk 
of  our  House  of  Representatives.  Wait  till 
I  go  after  them." 

"Oh,  anybody  will  do,  Colonel,"  the 
manager  replied.  "I  haven't  time  to  wait 
on  an  old  family." 

"All  right,"  said  the  Senator,  with  his 
hat  in  the  air.  ' '  If  you  don't  recognize  the 
advantage  of  respectability,  I  shall  not  in 
sist  upon  it.  We'll  get  these  two  hotel 


232  BOLANYO. 

clerks  back  here.  They  look  like  gentle 
men,  Sir." 

Many  a  day  had  gone  by  since  my  longing 
heart  had  fluttered  with  lightness.  And 
now  it  was  beating  high  with  an  exultant 
hope;  but  its  time  of  joy  was  short.  The 
memory  of  a  deep  voice  weighted  it  with 
sadness — a  voice  and  the  words:  "Any 
man  can  make  a  promise,  but  sometimes 
it  requires  a  gentleman  to  break  one." 

As  we  stood  in  the  bow  of  the  boat  and 
gazed  toward  the  lights  on  the  wharf  at 
Bolanyo,  the  Senator  put  his  hand  upon 
my  arm  and  said:  "My  boy,  that  fellow 
Maffet  is  a  shrewd  fellow,  from  shrewd 
Yankee  stock,  and  he  would  have  cheated 
you  out  of  your  teeth  if  I  hadn't  come  along. 
Yes,  Sir,  out  of  your  teeth." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

BURN   THE    JUNIPER. 

IN  the  enthusiasm  of  my  dramatic  occu 
pation  the  figures  forming  in  my  mind 
had  draped,  as  with  a  merciful  curtain, 
the  picture  in  my  heart — had  hidden 
the  eyes.     But  now  that  the  figures  were 
sent  away  the  curtain,  too,  was  gone,  and 
the  image  was  bold  with  a  new  vividness. 
I  resorted  to  numerous  devices,  walking, 
rowing,  reading,  but  the  picture  was  always 
before   me,    thrown    from   within;    and  at 
night,  alone  in  my  room,  I  could  see  in  its 
vibrations  the  beating  of  my  pulse. 

The  day  of  the  scramble  for  office  passed 
by,  and  the  Senator  and  his  son-in-law  were 
elected;  but  Estell's  majority  was  so  small 
that  his  opponent  declared  that  a  fraud  had 
been  practiced,  and  gave  warning  that  he 
233 


234  BOLANYO. 

would  take  his  case  to  the  courts.  I  met 
the  Senator  nearly  every  day,  and  some 
times  we  parted  in  embarrassment,  when  it 
would  have  seemed  so  natural  for  him  to 
say  "Come  out  to  see  me."  But  he  did 
not  say  it;  and  out  of  his  silence  there  came 
the  information  that  his  daughter  was  at 
home. 

At  last,  in  October,  the  theatrical  season 
arrived,  with  a  third-rate  company  to  pre 
sent  '  *  Virginius. "  I  employed  the  columns 
of  Petticord's  newspaper,  against  the  Sen 
ator's  advice,  had  the  town  and  a  large  part 
of  the  county  well  " papered,"  and  when 
the  opening  night  came  round  the  house 
was  crowded.  I  put  young  Elkin  into  the 
box  office,  and  he  must  have  been  born  for 
the  place,  for,  although  acquainted  with 
almost  every  man,  woman  and  child  in  the 
town,  he  recognized  no  one  at  the  window. 

Nervously  I  watched  the  people  coming 
in,  my  gaze  leaping  from  face  to  face.  I 
turned  away  to  attend  to  something,  and 
when  I  came  back  and  looked  at  the  house 


BURN  THE  JUNIPER.  235 

I  knew  that  she  was  there,  though  I  did  not 
see  her.  The  curtain  went  up  and  the  play 
proceeded.  On  a  sudden  someone  well  in 
front  cried  out  "Burn  the  juniper!"  And 
then  arose  the  yell,  "Throw  him  out!" 
Several  officers  ran  forward,  and  presently, 
in  the  midst  of  great  confusion,  they  came 
back,  almost  dragging  old  Mason,  the  pilot, 
and  Joe  Vark,  the  shoemaker.  Vark  was 
the  real  offender,  it  appeared,  and  Mason 
was  snatched  up  as  an  accessory.  I  went 
out  with  them,  pleading  with  the  officers 
not  to  use  them  roughly;  and  when  we 
reached  the  pavement  I  demanded  their 
release.  The  officers,  glad  enough  to  go 
back  to  the  play,  turned  the  culprits  over 
to  me.  Both  were  drunk. 

4 'Vark,"  said  I,  "do  you  want  to  break 
up  the  performance?" 

"Burn  the  juniper!"  he  shouted. 

"Now,  here,  Joe,"  the  pilot  pleaded, 
"let's  get  something  that  we  all  understand 
— something  like  'let  her  slide'  or  'let  her 
rip' — something  we  can  all  join  in  on." 


236  BOLANYO. 

"I  want  them  to  burn  the  juniper.  In 
the  old  days  when  the  atmosphere  in  the 
theatre  got  foul  they  cried  'burn  the  juni 
per,'  and  I  want  it  burned  now.  The  air 
in  there  is  foul  with  political  rascality  and 
scoundrelism.  Burn  the  juniper!"  he  yelled 
at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

"Blame  it  all,  Joe,"  Mason  persisted, 
"let's  get  something  that's  down  among 
the  people." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  I,  "you  must  keep 
quiet  or  I'll  have  you  taken  away.  Vark, 
you  don't  want  to  injure  me,  do  you?" 

"No,  I'm  your  friend,  but  you'll  have  to 
live  here  thirty  years  before  I  can  declare 
my  infatuation  for  you.  Give  a  hundred 
dollars  for  a  bonfire  of  juniper.  And  the 
long-lost  sword  of  Mars  was  discovered  by 
the  bleeding  hoof  of  a  heifer,  and  was  given 
to  Attila.  Burn  the  juniper!" 

"Look  here,  boys,  come  back  in  and  be 
have  yourselves.  Remember  that  the  house 
is  full  of  ladies,  and  that  ought  to  make  any 


BURN  THE  JUNIPER.  237 

man  thoughtful  in  the  South.  Will  you 
promise  to  behave  if  I  let  you  go  back?" 

"I  can't  promise  without  juniper,"  the 
shoemaker  declared.  '  *  The  twelve  vultures 
represented  the  twelve  hundred  years  of  the 
glory  of  Rome.  Burn  the  juniper.  Say, 
Belford,  tell  you  what  we'll  do — we'll  go 
down  to  Old  Bradley's  and  take  a  drink  as 
long  as  the  horn  of  a  wild  steer.  What  do 
you  say?" 

"I  can't  go  with  you,  Vark." 

"Then  I'll  go  back  into  the  house  and 
burn  the  juniper.  No,  I  won't,  Belford. 
You  are  a  good  fellow.  There's  nothing 
stuck  up  about  you.  And  I'm  sorry  for 
that  break  I  made  in  there.  Shake.  Now, 
come  on,  Mason,  and  we'll  burn  Old  Brad- 
ley." 

They  went  away,  arm  in  arm,  and  out  of 
a  group  of  mottled  idlers  formed  about  the 
door  came  slouching  the  figure  of  the  No 
torious  Bugg. 

4 '  Jest  thought  I'd  stand  here  till  the  worst 
come  to  the  worst,  Mr.  Belford,"  said  he. 


238  BOLANYO. 

"I  lowed  to  myself  that  if  they  jumped  on 
you  things  would  then  happen  fast  and 
sudden.  Hold  on  a  minute  and  let  me  tell 
you.  I  reckon  I'm  as  peaceable  a  man  as 
you  ever  seen  till  I  get  too  badly  stirred, 
and  then  I  can't  compare  myself  to  nothin' 
but  a  regular  mowin'  machine.  Oh,  I  didn't 
want  to  come  out  till  I  had  to.  I  wouldn't 
mind  whalin'  both  of  'em,  but  the  fact  is,  I 
wan't  prepared  to  meet  old  Joe.  I  owe  him 
for  a  pair  of  boots,  and  the  most  danger- 
some  lookin'  thing  I  ever  seen  is  a  feller 
that  I  owe.  When  I  owe  a  man  it  appears 
like  he  can  grow  ten  feet  in  a  night,  and 
sometimes  when  I  step  out  into  society  I 
find  myself  in  a  wilderness  of  giants,  I  tell 
you.  But  I  was  jest  about  to  thrash  both 
them  fellers  when  they  went  away,  and  in 
view  of  that  fact  I  think  you  ought  to  let 
me  go  into  your  show." 

I  did  not  take  issue  with  his  appeal;  I 
passed  him  in,  amused  at  the  thought  that 
two  of  my  characters  had  been  thrown  out 
of  my  house  and  that  another  one  had  en- 


BURN  THE  JUNIPER.  239 

tered,  firm  in  the  rascally  belief  that  he  had 
convinced  me  of  his  courage  and  his  deter 
mination  to  risk  his  blood  in  the  defense  of 
my  dignity. 

The  final  curtain  fell,  and  I  stood  near 
the  door,  not  to  receive  congratulations 
upon  the  bad  performance,  but  to  seek  food 
for  my  eyes.  Miss  Rodney  stopped  to  tell 
me  of  her  delightful  evening.  Bugg  Peters 
hung  back  to  say  that  the  "hoarse  feller 
with  the  table  cloth  wrapped  round  him 
wan't  no  slouch."  I  saw  the  Senator  com 
ing,  gesticulating,  talking.  I  saw  her.  I 
saw  her  face  turn  pale  and  then  to  pink  as 
she  approached.  The  Senator  did  not  ap 
pear  to  see  me,  so  busy  was  he  with  explain 
ing  to  an  acquaintance  the  merit  of  the  per 
formance;  and  he  would  have  led  her  by, 
but  in  a  burst  of  frank  energy  she  broke  loose 
from  him  and  held  out  her  hand  to  me. 

"Why,  Belford,"  said  the  Senator,  "I 
didn't  see  you.  Great  show,  Sir.  Fine  piece 
of  work,  eh,  Florence?  " 

"  I  didn't  think  so,  but  I  confess  that  I'm 


240  BOLANYO. 

not  much  of  a  judge,"  she  answered,  smil 
ing  at  me. 

"Oh,  well,  it  has  its  faults,  and  so  have 
we  all,  but  it  was  an  infamous  shame  that 
we  couldn't  open  here  without  a  disturb 
ance." 

44  Yes,"  said  I,  "but  those  two  men  gave 
a  better  piece  of  acting  than  we  could  find 
on  any  stage." 

4  4  Oh,  yes.  Good  fellows  when  sober,  Sir. 
The  pilot's  family  is  all  right.  I  don't  know 
anything  about  Vark's  people,  but  he'll  do 
well  enough  when  sober,  Sir.  Well,  Flor 
ence." 

He  led  her  away,  and  she  looked  back 
with  a  nod  and  a  smile — a  bright  and  grace 
ful  picture  as  she  passed  through  the  outer 
door.  And  all  that  night  I  saw  her,  always 
led  away,  but  always  looking  back  with  a 
nod  and  a  smile. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

GLEANING    THE    FIELD. 

A  VAGABOND  artist  came  to  town  and 
I  employed  him  to  make  sketches 
of  Peters,  Mason  and  Vark.     It  was 
easy  to  get  a  pose  from  the  pilot 
and  the  notorious  one,  but  after  his  "  juniper 
spree"  the  shoemaker  had  locked  himself  in 
his  shop.      But  we  hammered  his  door  day 
after  day,  and  one  morning  we  heard  the 
sliding  of  the  bolt. 

' '  Come  in, "  said  Vark.      ' '  But  let  me  tell 
you  that  I  am  in  no  shape  to  do  work." 

He  had  spread  a  blanket  on  the  floor, 
with  a  bundle  of  leather  at  one  end,  and 
with  books  scattered  about.  I  took  up  two 
volumes  to  find  the  plays  of  Marlowe  and 
the  snarling  complaint  of  old  Hobbs. 
"What  do  you  want,  boys?" 

1 6  241 


242  BOLANYO. 

"I  want  you  to  stand  for  a  few  moments 
just  as  you  are,"  said  I. 

' '  For  a  picture?  What  do  you  want  with 
a  picture  of  me?  I'm  nobody." 

'  *  Oh,  yes.  You've  lived  here  thirty  years, 
you  know. " 

* '  All  right,  go  ahead.  I  don't  suppose 
there  ever  was  a  man  so  no-account  that  he 
didn't  think  his  picture  was  worth  some 
thing.  But  I  wish  you'd  hurry  up  and  get 
through  with  me.  I  wouldn't  have  let  you 
in,  but  I  didn't  want  to  be  rude  to  a  stran 
ger.  Scratch  fast,  you  chap!  "he  added, 
speaking  to  the  artist.  *  *  What  are  you  go 
ing  to  do  with  the  sketch?  Hang  it  up  for  a 
scarecrow?  Done  with  me?  Take  it  away. 
I  don't  want  to  see  it. " 

He  turned  us  out  and  bolted  his  door;  and 
I  heard  him  swear  at  his  rusty  joints  as  he 
got  down  upon  the  blanket  and  wallowed 
in  the  midst  of  his  books. 

I  procured  a  number  of  photographs  of 
gardens  and  of  time-softened  houses;  I  jot 
ted  down  numerous  hints  of  ' '  atmosphere, " 


GLEANING  THE  FIELD.  243 

wrote  a  full  description  of  Washington  and 
of  Aunt  Patsey  and  sent  the  whole  to  Maf- 
fet.  And  it  seemed  that  these  acts  of  glean 
ing  were  long  to  be  protracted,  for  odd  bits 
of  characteristic  color  were  constantly  aris 
ing,  as  tinted  mists  from  the  soil.  In  no 
wise  could  they  find  a  place  in  the  action  or 
the  dialogue,  but  they  would  aid  the  stage 
craftsman  to  clothe  his  trickery  in  the  garb 
of  truth.  But  these  color-mists  came  only 
of  their  own  will,  and  never  would  they 
arise  at  command,  to  enshroud  and  to  soften 
the  vividness  of  the  picture  that  tantalized 
me.  Love  may  be  a  divine  essence,  calm 
as  God-ordered  peace,  when  it  flows  from 
the  legitimate  heart — it  may  be — but  my 
love  was  wolfish. 

The  Senator  was  very  much  elated  over 
the  success  of  our  Virginius  engagement. 
Early  one  morning  as  I  sat  looking  from  the 
window,  with  my  nostrils  full  of  the  dusty 
smell  of  sprinkled  floors  newly  swept,  he 
came  whistling  up  the  stairs. 

"  Ha!  dreaming,"  he  cried.     "I  can  see  it 


244  BOLANYO. 

in  your  face.  But  you  can  afford  to  dream. 
Keep  your  seat.  I  don't  care  to  sit  down. 
Well,  Sir,  old  Zeb  Harkrider  hailed  me  this 
morning  to  tell  me  that  a  good  many  of  our 
citizens  didn't  like  our  show.  I  said:  'Look 
here,  Zeb,  I  thought  I  kicked  you  off  the 
courthouse  steps  for  bringing  me  news  that 
I  didn't  want  to  hear  a  long  time  ago. 
Don't  you  remember  it?'  He  remembered. 
He  didn't  say  so,  but  he  stepped  back. 
'Why,  I  didn't  know  you  were  interested  in 
it,'  said  he.  I  had  to  lie  just  a  little,  Bel- 
ford.  I  hold,  Sir,  that  we  are  justified  in 
occasionally  slipping  a  lie  on  our  left  arm 
and  using  it  for  a  shield,  to  protect  our  pri 
vate  grounds  against  invasion.  Yes,  I  lied 
to  him  a  little;  I  told  him  that  my  only  in 
terest  lay  in  the  fact  that  it  was  my  desire  to 
see  our  people  well  entertained,  and  that  the 
habit  of  constant  grumbling  would  finally 
blind  us  to  the  beauties  of  even  the  best  of 
things.  So  I  got  rid  of  him.  And  do  you  real 
ize  that  Petticord  didn't  do  us  justice?  Con 
found  his  insolence,  you  passed  in  his  entire 


GLEANING  THE  FIELD.  245 

brigade,  and  yet  he  says  that  only  those  who 
were  easily  pleased  came  near  getting  the 
worth  of  their  money.  That  scoundrel  sus 
pects  that  I  have  a  hand  in  this,  and  he 
would  almost  be  willing  to  cut  his  own  throat 
in  order  to  do  me  a  harmful  turn.  But  I 
will  get  him  one  of  these  days — yes,  Sir,  I'll 
get  him  or  drive  him  out  of  this  community. 
My  boy,  you  don't  seem  to  be  in  very  good 
spirits.  What's  the  matter?  Getting  tired 
of  Bolanyo?" 

I  answered  with  what  the  humorist  of  the 
' '  profession  "  would  have  phrased  a  * '  prop 
erty  laugh."  "No,  Senator,  I  am  not  get 
ting  tired.  In  fact,  I  would  rather  be  here 
than  in  any  place  under  the  sun." 

*  *  Strong,  but  that's  right.  I  was  afraid 
that  you  felt  yourself  chained." 

"You  might  fasten  me  here  with  links  of 
rusty  iron,  but  in  my  eyes  they'd  be  a  chain 
of  gold." 

"What's  that?" 

He  startled  me  with  the  sharp  eye  of  com 
prehension,  and  I  felt  myself  droop  under 


246  BOLANYO. 

the  look  that  he  gave  me.  '  *  I  mean  that 
this  soft  and  restful  air  and  the  sweet  breath 
of  the  gardens  would  exalt  a  soul  in  spite  of 
the  restraints  of  the  body." 

Innocence  flew  back  to  his  eye.  '  That's 
good,  Belford;  I  have  felt  it  many  a  time. 
I  have  thought  in  moments  of  ambition  that 
my  talents  as  a  Legislator  were  crippled  here, 
that  I  might  go  to  Congress,  and  perhaps 
make  a  National  name  for  myself,  but  then 
came  the  idea  that  to  broaden  my  scope 
might  forever  spoil  my  love  for  old  Bo- 
lanyo." 

He  stood  there  meditating,  with  nothing 
more  to  say;  he  took  out  a  small  bunch  of 
keys,  looked  at  them  and  returned  them  to 
his  pocket;  he  put  his  hands  behind  him;  he 
went  to  the  window  and  looked  out  upon  the 
deliberate  commerce  of  the  town — wagons 
loaded  with  hay,  carts  of  kindling  wood, 
negroes  with  chickens,  groups  of  story 
telling  countrymen. 

' '  But  I  didn't  know  that  the  town  could 
take  quite  so  strong  a  hold  on  a  stranger," 


GLEANING  THE  FIELD.  247 

he  said,  with  his  eyes  in  the  street.  4<  But, 
Belford,"  and  now  he  turned  to  me, 
"you  are  a  man  of  quick  endearments,  and 
so  am  I;  and  that  is  one  of  the  reasons  why 
I  like  you,  and  a  reason,  I  might  say,  why 
I  condemn  myself.  But  I  like  a  manor 
don't,  almost  at  the  start.  They  call  me  a 
shrewd  politician,  and  I  am,,  but  I'm  one  of 
the  easiest  men  taken  in  you  ever  saw. 
Oh,  I  can  tell  whether  or  not  a  man  is  a 
rascal,  and  I  sometimes  buy  his  ware  know 
ing  that  I  myself  am  sold,  but  I  can't  help 
it.  One  single  note  in  a  man's  voice  some 
times  catches  me — a  little  thing  that  he 
doesn't  know  himself.  Belford,  I  want  you 
to  go  to  the  State  capital  with  me  some 
time,  after  the  Legislature  meets.  I'll  show 
you  some  of  the  most  picturesque  and  genial 
old  blatherskites  you  ever  saw.  Well,  I've 
got  some  knocking  around  to  do.  See  you 
again  soon." 

And  it  was  thus  that  we  always  parted — 
with  ' '  See  you  again  soon,"  and  never  with 
4 'You  must  come  to  see  me."  I  wondered 


248  BOLANYO. 

whether  his  daughter  had  warned  him 
against  the  impropriety  of  inviting  me  to 
the  house.  I  mused  over  the  sharp  light  of 
comprehension  in  his  eye,  and  made  an  ad 
ditional  trouble  for  myself  with  speculating 
upon  the  degree  of  his  suspicion. 

In  the  afternoon  I  walked  far  out  beyond 
the  limits  of  the  town,  not  at  first  in  the 
direction  of  the  Senator's  house,  but  I  cut 
a  quarter  circle  to  the  left  and  came  upon 
the  road  that  led  past  his  gate.  So  self- 
forgetful  had  been  my  employment  that  I 
did  not  realize  until  I  stepped  into  the 
shade  of  a  cottonwood  how  hot  it  had  been 
out  on  the  blazing  commons.  On  the  dying 
grass  I  sat,  with  my  feet  in  a  gully,  fanning 
with  my  hat,  harvesting  delicious  shudders 
of  coolness.  From  afar  off  came  the  hum 
of  a  thrashing  machine,  and  almost  in  my 
ear  an  insect  sang  the  melancholy  tune  that 
tells  of  autumn's  coming.  I  heard  the  slow 
and  heavy  trot  of  an  old  horse,  and  around 
a  bend  in  the  road  a  buggy  came,  and  in  it 
a  woman.  I  got  up  with  my  blood  leap- 


GLEANING  THE  FIELD.  249 

ing.  I  stepped  to  the  roadside  and  stood 
there,  with  my  face  turned  away,  and  sud 
denly  the  horse  fell  back  to  a  walk,  in  obe 
dience  to  an  impulsive  pull  upon  the  lines, 
my  eager  and  outlawed  heart  had  told  me. 
I  turned  about.  Her  eyes  were  averted, 
and  her  face  was  red,  and  she  would  have 
passed  without  a  word,  without  a  look,  but 
I  stepped  out  boldly  and  cried:  "Just  a 
moment,  please.  The  hame  strap  has  come 
unbuckled." 

"Oh,  thank  you,"  she  said,  and  the  horse 
stopped.  I  stepped  in  front  and  began  to 
pull  at  the  strap. 

"Quite  a  surprise  to  see  you,  Mrs.  Es- 
tell." 

"Yes.  But  I  don't  know  why  it  should 
be.  I  drive  about  a  good  deal." 

"And  I  walk  about  a  good  deal,  and  yet 
this  is  the  first  time — " 

"Can't  you  fasten  it?" 

"Yes;  now  it's  all  right."  I  stood  partly 
in  front  of  the  horse,  with  my  hand  on  the 
shaft.  She  gathered  up  the  lines. 


250  BOLANYO. 

"  Mrs.  Estell,  I  hope  you  are  not  offended 
at  me." 

She  laughed  with  music  though  not  with 
mirth,  and  then  her  face  grew  serious  as 
she  said:  "Of  course  not,  Mr.  Belford." 

Where  was  the  freedom,  the  outbreak  of 
energy  she  had  shown  in  the  opera  house; 
where  was  the  look  of  frankness?  All  now 
was  reserve,  a  cool  and  sacred  respect  for 
the  law  that  held  her  tied  with  a  frost- 
covered  rope.  I  did  not  presume  that  she 
loved  me,  but  I  knew  that  she  hated  him. 

"Have  you  buckled  the  strap?" 

"Yes,  madam." 

"Thank  you." 

At  that  moment  a  buggy  with  two  men 
in  it  came  rattling  by.  One  man  turned  to 
look  back,  and  I  recognized  Petticord,  the 
editor. 

"Mrs.  Estell,  I  hope  sometime  to  tell 
you—" 

"Don't  tell  me  anything,  Mr.  Belford. 
Let  me  go,  please.  Good-bye." 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

THE   WORK   OF    A    SCOUNDREL. 

1WAS   more   than   miserable    all   that 
night;  I  was  wretched.     I  had  betrayed 
myself,    and    now  to  show  even   the 
slightest  interest  in  her  was  to  imply  an 
insult.     But  what  could  I  hope  for  at  best? 
My  chain  might  be  gold,  but  it  was  a  chain 
after  all,  and  must  be  broken.      I  would  tell 
the  Senator  that  I  must  go  away;  and  the 
next  day  I  sat,   expecting  his  step  on  the 
stairs.     And  late  in  the  day  there  came  a 
step,  but  not  his.     It  was  not  a  step,  but 
a  bound  and  a  rush.     Young  Elkin  sprung 
into  the  room  with  a  copy  of    Petticord's 
paper  in  his  hand. 

44  Look  what  that  scoundrel  has  done!"  he 
cried. 

I  snatched  the  paper.      One  glance  and 
251 


252  BOLANYO. 

everything  whirled  round.  I  remember  that 
Elkin  caught  hold  of  me;  I  can  recall  that 
I  leaned  against  the  casement  of  the  win 
dow  to  hold  the  paper  where  the  light  was 
strong.  I  went  out,  down  the  back  way, 
and  through  an  alley  into  a  silent  street.  I 
passed  the  lamp-post  where  the  negro 
preacher  and  I  had  parted  one  night;  I 
passed  the  goblin  thicket.  And  now  a  cold 
dread  fell  upon  me.  What  sort  of  light 
should  now  I  find  in  the  eyes  of  that  old 
man?  I  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  meet 
ing  him.  I  would  rather  have  met  a  lion. 
His  rage  would  drive  me  mad. 

The  door  was  opened  by  the  negress. 
She  nodded  toward  the  library.  All  was 
still.  I  stepped  lightly  to  the  door.  The 
Senator  was  moving  about  as  if  looking  for 
something.  I  tapped  on  the  door  facing 
and  he  looked  round. 

"Ah,  come  in,  Belford." 

A  tremor  seized  me.  He  had  not  seen 
the  paper.  "I  was  looking  for  an  oil  can," 
said  he.  * '  Put  it  down  somewhere  just  a 


THE  WORK  OF  A  SCOUNDREL.  253 

moment  ago.  Here  it  is.  Looks  as  if  we'd 
have  a  little  rain." 

He  took  up  a  pistol  and  began  to  oil  the 
lock,  moving  the  hammer  up  and  down  to 
assure  himself  that  it  worked  easily.  "I 
guess  that's  all  right.  Now  what  did  I  do 
with  that  other  pistol?" 

' '  In  my  room, "  a  voice  replied.  I  turned 
about  with  a  start.  Mrs.  Estell  stood  in 
the  door.  She  bowed.  A  cool  smile  parted 
her  pale  lips. 

"Bring  it,  please,"  said  the  Senator. 

She  dropped  a  graceful  courtesy,  one  that 
might  have  been  seen  in  the  gracious  days 
of  our  grandmothers,  and  ran  up  the  stair 
way.  When  she  returned  the  Senator  was 
standing  near  the  door,  but  she  passed  him 
and  handed  the  pistol  to  me.  She  gave 
me  a  look,  and  if  now  her  eyes  were  glad, 
they  were  glad  like  a  fire  that  rejoices  to 
burn.  Just  one  look  and  then  she  bowed 
and  withdrew  without  a  word. 

"Let  me  oil  it  and  by  that  time  the 
buggy  will  be  ready,"  said  the  Senator.  "I 


254  BOLANYO. 

think  you  will  find  it  all  right, "  he  remarked, 
as  he  returned  the  pistol  to  me.  The 
negress  appeared  at  the  door.  ' '  Buggy 
ready?  All  right.  Come,  Belford." 

Not  a  word  was  spoken  until  we  were  far 
into  the  town,  and  then  the  Senator  said: 
"If  there's  but  one  he  belongs  to  me.  Do 
you  understand?" 

"Yes,  but  he  doesn't  belong  to  you  un 
less  you  can  shoot  first. " 

He  looked  at  me,  and  beneath  his  gray 
mustache  was  a  smile  as  sharp  as  a  sword. 

The  horse  was  trotting  at  the  top  of  his 
speed.  We  whirled  round  a  corner,  the 
wheels  ground  against  the  curb  and  we 
leaped  out.  A  negro  with  his  arms  full  of 
newspapers  stood  on  the  pavement. 

"Throw  them  in  the  gutter!"  the  Senator 
commanded,  and  the  negro  obeyed.  Up 
the  stairway  we  rushed,  into  a  corridor. 
The  Senator  tried  a  door.  It  would  not 
open. 

"He  has  locked  himself  in.  Here,  we'll 
break  it  down  with  this." 


THE  WORK  OF  A  SCOUNDREL.  255 

We  gathered  up  a  heavy  bench,  battered 
the  door  down  and  rushed  into  the  room. 
The  place  was  vacant.  We  looked  at  each 
other.  A  gust  of  wind  stirred  the  papers 
lying  about;  a  "bunch  of  copy"  fluttered 
on  the  editor's  desk. 

"We'll  find  him." 

We  went  into  the  business  office.  No 
one  was  there.  We  stepped  out  into  the 
street,  and  there  we  were  arrested  on  a 
peace  warrant  sworn  out  by  Petticord. 

"We  must  respect  the  law,"  the  Senator 
remarked  as  we  walked  off  with  the  con 
stable.  "I  mean  the  active  presence  of 
the  law,"  he  added,  evidently  recalling  the 
fact  that  we  had  broken  down  a  door. 
"We'll  go  over  here  and  give  bond,  but 
we'll  get  him.  Yes,  Sir,  we'll  get  him  as 
sure  as  you  are  born." 

Bonds  were  prepared,  accepted,  and  we 
were  released.  The  Justice  followed  us  out. 
"  Giles,"  said  he,  "I  am  awfully  sorry  that 
you  didn't  have  a  chance  to  kill  him.  Never 


256  BOLANYO, 

was  a  greater  outrage  perpetrated  in  this 
community." 

"Yes,  but  I'll  get  him,  Perry,  "the  Sena 
tor  replied. 

"Get  him?  Of  course!  Mr.  Belford, 
this  makes  you  a  permanent  resident  of  our 
city,  Sir.  You  can't  afford  to  go  away  now, 
even  if  you  have  thought  of  such  a  thing. 
Giles,  he  swore  out  the  warrant  and  got  on 
a  train  at  once,  and  I  reckon  his  wife  will 
run  his  paper.  Is  Estell  at  home?" 

* '  No,  he  is  over  at  Jackson.  He'll  be 
home  to-night." 

"Well,  I'm  sorry — but  look  here,  Giles, 
after  all  it  is  simply  an  annoyance.  That 
fellow  Petticord  has  no  weight." 

"A  man  of  no  family  whatever,"  said  the 
Senator.  ' '  And,  Sir,  neither  is  a  dog,  but 
we  may  be  forced  to  kill  him.  Come,  Bel- 
ford." 

Together  we  walked  back  to  the  buggy. 
A  street  lamp,  the  first  one  lighted,  flashed 
across  the  way,  and  I  thought  of  the  coming 
of  Estell. 


THE  WORK  OF  A  SCOUNDREL.  257 

"  Get  in,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "and 
I  will  drive  you  to — to  your  office. "  And  as 
we  drove  along  he  added:  "I  don't  know 
what  to  say.  But  don't  think  that  I  attach 
any  blame  to  you.  My  daughter's  word  as 
to  your  conduct  toward  her,  your  con 
sideration  and  your  gentleness  weigh  like 
holy  writ.  And  you  know  why  I  have  not 
invited  you  to  the  house.  But  we'll  say 
nothing  about  that." 

« '  No,  we  can't  talk  of  that,  Senator.  But 
there  is  something  I  must  say.  Let  the 
horse  walk,  please.  First  let  me  tell  you 
that  I  respect  you  more — love  you  more,  if 
you  will  permit  me  to  say  it — than  any  man 
on  the  earth.  I— 

"Don't,  don't,  Belford,"  he  protested 
with  a  catch  like  a  sob  in  his  voice.  "Don't." 

And  we  drove  in  silence  until  we  reached 
a  corner  near  the  opera  house,  and  then  I 
requested  him  to  let  me  get  out.  He  gave 
me  his  hand;  I  gripped  it  hard,  and  we 
parted  without  a  word. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

IN   THE   THICKET. 

A  ONE  in   my  room  I  sat,  with  the 
window  shades  pulled  down,  waiting 
for  the  coming  of  another  day.    And 
for  what  end?     To  meet  the  gaze  of 
vulgar  eyes.     The  tavern  bells  had  rung  the 
supper  hour,  and  doors  were  closing  about 
the  public  square.      I  heard  the  '  'haw  haw" 
and  the  shuffling  dance  of  negroes  on  the 
pavement.     I  heard  Washington's  step  on 
the  stair  and  I  lighted  the  gas  and  waited, 
for  now  he  was  not  an  unwelcome  visitor. 
He  tapped    at  the  door  like  a  small  bird 
pecking  on  a  tree.      I   bade  him  come  in, 
and  as  he  entered  he  dropped  his  hat  on  the 
floor. 

"Don't  do  that,"  I  commanded,   "don't 
give  me  any  more  affectation.     You  despise 
258 


IN  THE  THICKET.  259 

your  father's  dialect  but  you  preserve  his 
tricks  of  slavish  humility." 

4 '  Humility  is  more  the  virtue  of  the  Chris 
tian  than  the  trick  of  the  slave,  Mr.  Bel- 
ford,"  he  replied.  "But  tell  me  why  you 
are  so  free  and  simple  when  you  talk  to  other 
people  and  so — pardon  me  if  I  use  the  word 
theatric — so  theatric  with  me." 

4 '  Because  you  rob  me  of  my  naturalness 
and  compel  me  to  strut.  But  let  me  be 
natural  now.  Are  you  just  from  the  house?" 

' '  Yes,  I  came  straight  down  here. " 

"Had  the  Senator  returned?" 

"Yes,  but  he  soon  went  away  again — 
after  Mr.  Estell  came." 

"  Did  you  see  them  meet?" 

"No,  I  had  gone  out  to  help  the  woman 
bring  in  the  clothes  because  it  looked  like 
rain." 

"And  did  the  woman  tell  you  anything 
about  Mrs.  Estell?" 

' '  That  she  had  locked  herself  in  her  room 
was  all." 


260  BOLANYO. 

* '  And  you  didn't  hear  any  talk  between  the 
Senator  and  Estell?" 

' '  Only  at  the  gate  when  the  Senator  drove 
off.  Then  he  said:  '  Don't  look  for  me  until 
you  see  me. '  A  boy  went  with  him  to  bring 
the  buggy  back." 

"  Where  could  he  have  gone?" 

' '  To  take  the  train  for  New  Orleans,  to 
look  for  his  man.  He  had  a  telegram." 

"And  what  did  Estell  say?" 

' '  He  swore  as  the  Senator  drove.  '  By 
God,'  he  cried,  'you  have  gone  after  the 
wrong  man.'  But  perhaps  I  ought  not  to 
have  told  you  this." 

I  strove  to  be  calm,  but  almost  in  a  rage 
I  was  now  walking  up  and  down  the  room. 

"Yes,  you  should.  And  the  imbecile 
said  that.  He  ought  to  have  his  lying  old 
tongue  torn  out." 

"Be  cautious,  Mr. Belford.     The  man — " 

"The  man  what?"  I  demanded. 

"May  think  he  has  a  cause.  Wait  a 
moment,  please.  A  cause  to  believe  that 
you  are  in  the  young  woman's  heart,  and 


IN  THE  THICKET.  261 

what  more  would  he  need  to  make  him  bit 
ter  toward  you?  Be  reasonable." 

"You  are  right,  Washington;  you  are 
right.  But  when  we  meet,  what  then?" 

"You  must  not  meet." 

"  But  we  might." 

4  *  You  must  go  away. " 

"What,  to  blast  her  name?" 

"No,  to  save  a  life.     Perhaps  two  lives.'' 

' '  I  will  not  go  away.  There  will  be  but 
one  life  to  forfeit — mine." 

"Would  that  save  her  name,  Mr.  Bel- 
ford?" 

"Look  here,  you  don't  mean  that  the 
people  believe  that  newspaper's  insinua 
tion." 

4 '  They  don't.  Representatives  of  the  best 
families  have  called  to  show  their  faith,  but 
what  would  they  think  if  Estell  should  shoot 
you?" 

"And  what  would  they  think  if  I  should 
run  away?  No,  I  will  stay." 

44  Then  I  have  nothing  more  to  say,  Mr. 
Belford." 


262  BOLANYO. 

He  strode  out,  catching  up  his  hat  at  the 
door,  and  I  counted  the  steps  as  he  trod 
down  the  stairs. 

Early  the  next  morning  I  walked  out 
from  the  town,  but  at  no  time  did  I  turn 
toward  the  Senator's  house.  I  went  down 
the  road  that  led  through  the  cypress  land, 
into  the  deep  silence  of  the  swamp.  I 
passed  the  house  of  the  Notorious  Bugg, 
and  I  saw  it  trembling  (a  mere  fancy,  of 
course)  with  the  shake  of  the  aguish  sons- 
in-law.  A  road,  impassable  except  in  the 
driest  of  seasons,  wound  about  among  deep 
pools  of  yellow  slime.  The  ground  shook 
under  my  careful  tread,  and  the  slightest  jar 
was  sufficient  to  disturb  an  acre  of  spongy 
desolation.  I  sat  on  a  log  with  the  feeling 
that  no  eye  could  see  me.  Sometimes  the 
silence  was  so  strained  that  it  sang  in  my 
ear;  sometimes  I  was  startled  by  the  flap 
ping  and  the  shriek  of  a  gaunt  bird,  skim 
ming  the  surface  of  the  ooze.  In  this  creepy 
solitude  I  took  myself  to  task.  Behind  an 
error  of  the  heart  there  stands  a  sophist,  a 


IN  THE  THICKET.  263 

Libanius,  to  offer  a  specious  consolation — 
a  voice  ever  ready  to  say,  « « It  was  not  your 
fault;  you  do  not  create  your  own  desires 
and  neither  can  you  control  them."  This  is 
true  enough,  but  a  man  can  control  his  ac 
tions.  I  should  have  gone  away,  for  the  com 
monest  of  sense  had  pointed  out  the  weak 
ness,  the  crime,  of  remaining.  And  what  had 
I  hoped  for?  To  tell  her  that  I  would  wait, 
with  a  hope  ever  warm  in  my  heart.  I  could 
not  see  a  crime  in  that.  But  I  could  not 
tell  her — she  would  not  permit  me  to  lead 
up  to  so  embarrassing  a  subject.  Wash 
ington  was  right.  It  was  my  duty  to  go 
away,  not  to  save  myself,  but  to  keep  Es- 
tell's  hands  free  of  blood. 

Strong  in  my  resolve,  I  walked  briskly 
toward  the  town,  and,  coming  out  of  the 
swamp,  I  was  still  strong,  but  my  heart  flut 
tered  when  from  a  rise  of  ground  I  saw  the 
Senator's  house,  far  away.  To  the  left  of  the 
road  lay  a  piece  of  land,  wild  with  briers  and 
a  growth  of  new  timber,  a  thicket  check 
ered  with  cattle  paths.  Up  the  road  I  saw 


264  BOLANYO. 

a  man  coming,  and,  as  he  drew  nearer,  I 
recognized  the  slouching  figure  of  Bugg 
Peters.  I  did  not  care  to  meet  him,  to  be 
compelled  to  answer  or  evade  his  questions, 
so  I  turned  aside  into  the  thicket  and  brushed 
my  way  along  a  narrow  path.  On  a  sud 
den  I  leaped  aside  into  a  tangle  of  bushes. 
A  pistol  or  gun  had  fired  it  seemed  almost 
at  my  elbow.  I  listened,  but  heard  not  a 
sound.  I  thought  I  saw  smoke  arising  off  to 
my  left,  but  it  might  have  been  mist,  for  the 
day  was  dark  with  vapors  and  low-hang 
ing  clouds.  I  was  uneasy,  and  not  know 
ing  whither  my  path  might  lead,  I  turned 
back;  and  just  as  I  reached  the  road  a  man 
and  a  boy,  struggling  through  the  under 
growth,  ran  past  me.  They  said  nothing,  but, 
looking  back  with  fright  in  their  faces,  ran 
off  toward  town.  I  looked  about  for  Peters, 
but  did  not  see  him.  I  wondered  what  it 
all  could  mean. 

Upon  entering  the  town   I   avoided  the 
busier  streets,  and  passed  through  quiet  by- 


IN  THE  THICKET.  265 

ways.  At  the  foot  of  the  rear  stairway 
leading  to  my  room  stood  a  man. 

"Hold  on,"  he  said,  and  then  shouted  to 
someone  above.  A  man  came  running 
down  the  steps. 

"What's  wanted?"  I  inquired. 

"You,"  replied  one  of  the  men.  "Come 
with  us." 

"But  what  do  you  want?" 

4 'Come  on  quietly  and  you'll  find  out. 
Do  you  want  us  to  handcuff  you?" 

I  went  with  them,  stupefied  with  aston 
ishment.  They  would  answer  no  questions. 
They  took  me  to  the  jail,  and  then  I  was 
informed  that  I  had  been  arrested  on  a  war 
rant  sworn  out  by  J.  W.  Milliard,  charging 
me  with  the  murder  of  Thomas  Estell.  In 
a  daze  I  was  pushed  into  a  cell.  I  couldn't 
think;  I  had  an  impression  that  I  had  lost 
a  part — the  serious  part — of  my  mind.  I 
looked  at  the  little  things  about  me,  a 
burnt  match  on  the  floor,  a  cobweb  in  an 
upper  corner.  I  took  up  a  tin  candlestick 
and  picked  at  a  ridge  of  sperm;  I  sat  down 


266  BOLANYO. 

upon  a  cot,  wondering  if  it  would  break  un 
der  me,  and  I  felt  it  shake  and  spring  like 
the  spongeland  in  the  swamp.  I  heard  the 
tavern  bells  ring,  and  I  heard  the  trades 
men  slamming  their  doors.  And  I  even  said 
to  myself,  ' '  I  shall  be  horror-stricken  when 
I  realize  it  all. " 

There  came  footsteps  down  the  corridor, 
and  I  heard  someone  say,  "All  right,  I 
won't  stay  long.  Turn  up  your  lamp.  I 
can't  see  him." 

The  blaze  of  a  lamp  hanging  in  the  cor 
ridor  crept  higher  and  I  saw  the  shoe 
maker  standing  in  front  of  my  grated  door. 

"Mr.  Belford,  this  is  rough." 

"Yes,  it  will  be  when  I  am  able  to  be 
lieve  it." 

1 '  I  reckon  it's  so,  and  it  won't  take  you 
long  to  believe  it.  But  if  you  ever  had 
cause  to  be  cool,  you've  got  that  cause  now. 
Brighten  up.  Several  people  have  called 
to  see  you — the  nigger  preacher,  too — but 
they  couldn't  get  in." 

"  How  did  you  get  in?" 


IN  THE  THICKET.  267 

"The  jailer  owes  me.  Yes,  and  I  worked 
my  prerogative  because  I  thought  you'd  like 
to  see  even  a  shoemaker. " 

4 'Tell  me — tell  me  all  about  it." 
"Why,  Milliard  and  his  son  was  coming 
through  the  thicket.  They  heard  a  pistol 
close  to  them,  they  stumbled  on  Estell  lying 
dead  in  the  path,  and  they  saw  you  making 
for  the  big  road.  And  that  slab-sided  Pe 
ters  says  he  saw  you  turn  into  the  thicket. 
He  heard  the  shot,  and  he  ran  in  to  see 
what  was  up,  but  couldn't  find  anything. 
It  is  a  shame  the  way  both  those  fellows 
were  permitted  to  stand  around  and  talk 
about  it.  It  has  made  them  mighty  impor 
tant.  I  dangled  a  debt  over  Bugg's  head 
and  silenced  him,  but  I  couldn't  do  any 
thing  with  Milliard.  That  scoundrel  paid 
me  about  two  months  ago.  Bad!  It  puts 
the  Senator  in  an  awkward  position.  He 
can't  express  an  opinion,  you  know.  Good 
thing  he's  away,  gunning  after  Petticord. 
Oh,  Bolanyo  is  coming  up.  They  found 
Estell  with  his  head  almost  blown  off. 


268  BOLANYO. 

Seems  as  if  somebody  must  have  poked  a 
pistol  out  of  the  bushes  almost  against  the 
side  of  his  head.  I  am  telling  you  all  this 
so  you  may  in  a  measure  be  prepared  at  the 
inquest  to-morrow  morning.  His  watch 
and  some  small  change  was  found,  so  it 
wasn't  a  murder  for  gain.  No  pistol  was 
found  on  him,  so  he  wasn't  expecting  a 
fight." 

"Look  here,  Vark,  you  don't  believe  I 
killed  that  man?" 

' '  I  haven't  said  so,  but  I'll  tell  you  this 
— the  people  believe  it.  You  know  it  takes 
a  great  deal  of  argument  to  prove  a  stranger 
innocent  and  mighty  little  evidence  to  show 
him  guilty.  In  an  old  community  it's  a 
great  crime  to  be  a  stranger.  Well,  I  must 
go.  The  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  keep 
your  head  cool." 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

THE    RINGING   OF   THE    BELL. 

I  SAT  down,  in    a   full  sense  of    it   all, 
and  reasoned  upon  the  ugly  happenings 
that  stood  to  accuse  me.      Coincidents 
sometimes    fit    snugger    than   arrange 
ments   that    have   been   carefully   planned; 
they  slip  into  place  with  a  perverse  true- 
ness  of    adjustment.      Thus    I   speculated, 
and    I  was  astonished  at  my  coolness.      I 
turned  about  from  my  argument  to  notice 
that  a  heavy  rain  was  falling.      The  court 
house  bell  was  ringing  furiously.    The  jailor 
came  hastening  down  the  corridor. 

44  What  does  that  bell  mean?  "  I  inquired. 
44  God  help  you  man,  it  means  you!  "  he 
cried.      "The  signal  for  the  mob." 
14  What!     To  hang  me?" 
44  Yes,  and  I  can't  help  you." 
269 


270  BOLANYO. 

"  But  you  can  turn  me  out.  Open  this 
door! " 

"  I  can't  do  that,  Sir.  They  would  hang 
me.  They  are  coming." 

There  were  no  cries  outside.  There  was 
the  heavy  tramping  of  feet  and  a  tap  on 
the  door  as  if  a  quiet  visitor  sought  admis 
sion. 

"Who  is  that?"  the  jailor  demanded, 
walking  slowly  down  the  corridor. 

"Open  the  door,  Hill." 

"But  who  is  it?" 

'  'A  party  of  friends.  Open  the  door  to 
your  neighbors." 

' '  But  is  it  to  the  law— the  sheriff  ? " 

11  The  sheriff  is  locked  up  in  the  court 
house.  We  want  to  be  quiet  about  this 
thing,  but— the  sledge,  Dave." 

' '  Hold  on,  boys,  don't  break  the  door. 
What  do  you  want? " 

"A  man." 

And  the  man  stood  in  the  cell,  placing  a 
cool  estimate  upon  each  word  and  aston 
ished  at  himself. 


THE  RINGING  OF  THE  BELL.  271 

"Well,  boys,  I  can't  help  myself,  and 
when  you  take  him  you'll  find  him  a  piece 
of  as  dead  grit  as  you  ever  run  against." 

I  heard  the  bolt.  He  threw  the  door  open. 
There  was  no  rush,  no  noise,  and  not  a  word 
was  spoken  until  the  jailor  opened  the  door 
of  my  cell,  and  then  a  man  in  a  black  mask 
quietly  said:  "  We  must  trouble  you  to  go 
along  with  us." 

It  was  of  no  use  to  protest  and  I  did  not 
reply.  With  a  small  rope  they  tied  my 
hands  behind  me  and  led  me  out  into  the 
street.  And  now  there  arose  a  yell.  Rain 
was  pouring  down.  The  pine  torches  were 
extinguished.  The  lamps  about  the  public 
square  had  been  turned  out.  The  mob  was 
going  to  do  its  work  by  the  light  of  a  single 
lantern,  borne  by  a  man  who  strode  beside 
me.  In  front  of  the  courthouse  stood  a  tree. 
Under  it  a  large  box  was  placed.  A  rope, 
with  one  end  on  the  box,  the  other  end  lost 
in  the  darkness  of  the  tree,  looked  in  the 
rain  like  a  waterspout.  I  heard  someone 


272  BOLANYO, 

say, ' '  Keep  quiet,  everybody!  "    The  lantern 
was  placed  on  the  box. 

"  Let  me  assist  you  to  get  up,"  said  a  po 
lite  man.  I  looked  about,  but  saw  no  kindly 
face;  I  saw  a  circle  of  black  masks.  Sud 
denly  the  lantern  was  knocked  off  the  box. 
A  scramble  followed  in  the  dark  and  the 
rain.  Someone  seized  my  hands,  something 
cold  touched  them,  bore  down  hard  and  the 
rope  fell  apart.  "Run  through  the  court 
house,"  a  whisper  shot  like  a  needle  into  my 
ear.  I  wheeled  about ;  I  knocked  men  down ; 
and  in  the  midst  of  a  fury,  an  outcry,  a 
stampede  in  hell,  I  stumbled  up  the  court 
house  steps,  ran  headlong  through  the  black 
corridor,  out  the  other  side,  into  an  alley. 
I  scrambled  over  a  fence,  fell  upon  a  shop 
keeper's  waste  ground,  stumbled  over  boxes, 
climbed  over  another  fence — ran.  Away 
from  the  square  the  gas-lamps  were  burn 
ing,  and  I  shunned  the  light.  The  rain  con 
tinued  to  pour,  and  the  roadways  were  de 
serted.  The  speed  of  despair  soon  took  me 
beyond  the  limits  of  the  town,  and  now  the 


THE  RINGING  OF  THE  BELL.  273 

darkness  was  intense.  The  sandiness  of  the 
soil  gave  warning  that  I  was  near  the  river, 
and  I  halted  to  listen,  but  the  splash  of  the 
rain  was  all  that  I  heard.  Far  behind  me 
was  a  yellow  smear — the  town.  But  what 
was  in  front  I  knew  not.  I  felt  my  way 
along.  The  ground  sloped — the  river.  "If 
I  could  only  find  a  boat,"  I  mused.  I  walked 
up  the  shore,  close  to  the  water's  edge,  the 
ripples  sucking  the  sand  from  under  my 
feet.  Once  I  fell  with  a  splash,  and  I  bore 
off  to  the  right,  to  keep  clear  of  the  water, 
but  a  high  bank  had  arisen  between  me 
and  the  outlying  fields  of  darkness.  Sud 
denly  there  came  a  loud  splash.  The  sandy 
banks  were  caving  in.  I  thought  of  turning 
back,  and  then  came  a  splash  behind  me. 
I  was  caught  in  a  trap  of  sand.  There  was 
nothing  to  do  but  to  wait.  I  could  not 
climb  out,  for  I  was  now  beneath  a  shelf, 
hollowed  out  under  the  bank,  a  crumbling 
roof.  I  sat  down  to  wait  for  daylight. 
The  river  was  rising.  I  was  afraid  to  move. 
A  yawn  might  have  called  down  an  ava- 

18 


274  BOLANYO. 

lanche  of  sand.  I  could  have  plunged  into 
the  river,  but  I  could  not  have  swam  against 
the  current;  I  should  have  been  swept  down 
beyond  Bolanyo,  to  be  snatched  up  at  day 
light  and  hanged.  And  daylight  was  com 
ing.  The  rain  had  ceased,  but  the  air  was 
heavy  and  I  knew  that  the  light  would  be 
slow.  The  yellow  river  grew  distinct,  close 
to  the  shore,  and  gradually,  but  with  many 
a  hang-back,  it  seemed,  the  light  grew 
strong  enough  to  reveal  the  walls  and  the 
roof  of  my  prison.  Overhead  the  sand  was 
held  by  streaks  of  clay,  but  this  support,  I 
saw,  must  soon  give  in,  for  the  current  was 
eating  fast.  Up  the  stream,  only  a  few 
feet  away,  was  a  whirlpool,  where  the  bank 
had  caved,  and  just  below  a  strong  suck 
was  forming,  but  here  was  a  slope,  and  I 
might  climb  out  over  it,  though  the  way 
was  treacherous.  I  did  not  hesitate,  and 
struggling,  clutching,  on  my  knees,  up  again, 
the  sand  rolling  under  me,  I  fought  and 
gained  the  firm  ground  above.  Not  a  house 
was  within  sight.  But  I  could  see  the  plow 


THE  RINGING  OF  THE  BELL.  275 

on  the  dome  in  Bolanyo,  miles  away;  and 
now  it  was  a  vulture,  dark-limned  against  a 
darker  sky.  I  trod  across  a  gullied  field, 
into  the  woods,  to  find  a  place  to  lie  in 
hiding  until  night.  I  thought  of  blood 
hounds.  But  the  rain,  the  river  and  the 
caving  sand  were  almost  a  sure  protection 
against  their  merciless  scent.  Still  I  was 
frightened,  and  I  walked  for  a  long  distance 
in  a  stream  of  water,  with  the  old  story  of 
a  runaway  slave  fresh  in  my  mind.  I  could 
not  even  guess  at  the  time  of  day.  At  the 
jail  they  had  taken  my  watch,  my  penknife, 
money,  everything.  In  a  thick  patch  of 
briers  I  lay  down  beside  a  log  and  slept,  and 
opening  my  eyes  I  saw  a  star.  I  bore  off 
from  the  river,  walking  as  fast  as  I  could. 
I  came  upon  a  patch  of  yams,  the  southern 
er's  vaunted  sweet  potato,  and  fed  raven 
ously  on  the  milky  root.  I  passed  numerous 
negro  cabins  and  dogs  barked  at  me.  At 
daylight  I  hid  again  and  slept. 

In  the  evening  of  the  fourth  day  I  made 
bold    to    enter    a  negro's    hut,    always   the 


276  BOLANYO. 

refuge  and  the  asylum  of  the  outcast,  and 
appealed  to  the  generosity  of  an  enormous 
fellow  who  reminded  me  of  Washington. 
I  told  him  I  was  a  fugitive  fleeing  from  the 
wrath  of  political  enemies,  and  my  story 
moved  his  simple  and  unsuspecting  heart. 
He  gave  me  food  and  a  bed. 

Thus  I  wandered  night  after  night,  heavy 
of  heart,  and  yet  with  a  prayer  of  gratitude. 
At  last  I  reached  the  State  of  Illinois.  One 
day  in  a  cross-roads  grocery  where  I  had 
halted  to  split  wood  for  a  bit  of  cheese,  I 
saw  a  handbill  posted  on  the  door.  It  set 
forth  the  enormity  of  my  crime,  attempted 
to  describe  me — tall,  dark  brown  eyes,  hair 
almost  black,  a  straight  nose  and  about 
thirty  years  of  age;  and  they  had  paid  me 
the  compliment  to  add  the  word  ' l  graceful. " 
They  had  added,  also,  that  the  sum  of  six 
thousand  dollars  would  be  paid  for  my  cap 
ture.  The  groceryman  and  his  friends  were 
talking  politics;  and  doubtless  they  had 
never  given  more  than  a  moment's  thought 


THE  RINGING  OF  THE  BELL.  277 

to  a  murder  committed  away  down  in  Mis 
sissippi. 

I  believed  that  a  city  was  my  safest 
refuge,  and  I  made  straight  for  Chicago. 
There  I  might  secure  some  sort  of  employ 
ment,  and,  under  another  name,  earn  money 
enough  to  take  me  to  the  wilds  of  the  un 
known  West.  I  felt  that  a  light  would  one 
day  be  thrown  upon  the  mystery.  But  I 
knew  that  they  would  hang  me,  if  they 
could,  and  then  marvel  at  the  light,  should 
it  ever  come.  I  appreciated  the  fact  that 
the  hunt  for  me  would  not  be  given  up. 
Six  thousand  dollars  serve  well  to  keep  the 
blood  of  justice  circulating. 

I  arrived  in  Chicago  one  evening,  having 
spent  more  than  two  months  on  the  devious 
path  that  led  from  Bolanyo;  and  the  first 
attention  to  mark  my  arrival  was  the  stare 
of  a  policeman.  This  threw  me  into  a  tre 
mor  and  a  cold  sweat  of  fear;  but  he  passed 
on  without  speaking  to  me,  and  I  turned 
aside  to  walk  slowly,  and  then  almost  to 
run  in  the  opposite  direction. 


278  BOLANYO. 

My  appearance  was  against  me.  I  was 
almost  ragged,  and  I  knew  that  it  would  be 
useless  to  apply  for  any  except  the  meanest 
sort  of  employment.  Times  were  hard,  and 
even  day  labor  was  not  easy  to  find.  But  at 
last,  after  a  week  of  persistent  application, 
of  hunger,  of  shivering  in  the  raw  air,  I 
was  put  to  work  in  a  livery-stable.  They 
called  me  a  «< chambermaid,"  a  "happy 
hit"  in  which  they  found  no  end  of  fun. 
Sometimes  their  jokes  were  rough,  but  I 
bore  them  with  a  pretense  of  good  nature, 
passing  on  to  my  task;  and  one  day  my  zeal 
found  reward  in  the  notice  of  the  proprie 
tor. 

"Jarvis,"  said  he,  "you  go  about  your 
work  as  if  your  mind  is  on  it.  Do  you 
reckon  you've  got  sense  enough  to  drive  a 
cab?" 

"I  think  so,  Sir." 

4 '  Well,  have  your  stubble  shaved  off  and 
I'll  give  you  a  trial." 

"I'd  rather  not  have  the  beard  off,  Sir. 
I  have  trouble  with  my  throat. " 


THE  RINGING  OF  THE  BELL.  279 

"Well,  we'll  try  you,  anyway." 
' '  In  livery?"  I  could  not  help  asking. 
"What,  ain't  proud,  are  you?" 
"Oh,  no,  but  I'd  rather  not  wear  livery." 
"It  strikes  me  that  anything  would  be  an 
improvement  over  the  clothes  you've  got  on. 
But  I  guess  we  can  fix  you  out.     You  must 
be  from  the  country.     An  American  farmer 
may  wear  patches,   but  he   won't  put  on 
livery.     We'll  put  you  on  a  special,  and  you 
may  start  in  to-morrow." 


M 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

MAGNOLIA    LAND. 

Y  wages  were  small,  and  I  saved 
every  possible  penny;  I  gave  up 
smoking,  slept  in  the  stable,  and 
rarely  paid  more  than  fifteen  cents 
for  a  meal.  In  my  mind  I  settled  upon  the 
island  of  Vancouver,  and  I  resolved  to  go  as 
soon  as  I  could  save  money  enough  to  buy 
a  suit  of  clothes  and  a  railway  ticket  to 
Seattle.  And  from  my  exile  I  would  dare 
write  to  the  Senator.  "Why  not  now?"  I 
thought  as  I  sat  on  my  cab.  "But  he 
might  believe  the  story  set  up  by  circum 
stances;  he  might  long  ago  have  condemned 
me  as  guilty  of  Estell's  blood.  And  what 
must  she  think?"  The  beginning  of  my 
musings  mattered  not,  for  the  end  was  al 
ways  the  same,  with  the  woman.  And  in 
280 


MAGNOLIA  LAND.  281 

the  night,  when  the  fierce  wind  howled 
about  the  barn,  with  the  stamping  and 
snorting  of  horses  beneath  me,  I  lay  in  the 
dark  and  the  cold,  and  gazed  into  my  heart's 
illuminated  memory.  Her  face  was  always 
frank  and,  though  her  lips  were  dumb,  her 
eyes  were  full  of  whispers.  "But  what 
must  she  think  now?"  always  came  to  drive 
her  away  into  the  dark  and  the  cold. 

In  impatience,  and  sometimes  in  fear,  I 
watched  the  slow  growth  of  my  savings. 
Once  a  man,  a  detective  I  was  sure,  came 
to  the  stable  to  ask,  he  said,  concerning  a 
woman  whom  I  had  that  day  driven  to  a 
railway  station.  He  may  have  told  the 
truth,  but  he  put  me  in  distress,  and  the  next 
day  when  I  counted  my  money  I  said,  "I 
will  go  to-morrow."  But  on  that  day  a 
paragraph  leaped  out  of  a  newspaper  and 
smote  me.  "  In  Magnolia  Land"  was  soon 
to  be  produced  at  McVicker's  Theatre.  I 
had  cause  to  believe  that  I  was  suspected 
of  at  least  some  sort  of  crookedness,  since 
in  my  mind  it  was  almost  settled  that  the 


282  BOLANYO. 

man  had  come  to  the  stable  to  look  me 
over  in  the  hope  of  finding  a  " bargain," 
but  I  was  resolved  to  take  the  risk  to  see 
the  play.  And  I  read  the  newspapers  at 
night  and  at  morning,  nervous  with  the 
fear  of  finding  an  announcement  that  the 
drama  was  the  work  of  a  man  now  charged 
with  the  murder  of  Mississippi's  Treasurer. 
As  the  time  drew  near  the  press  agent  mul 
tiplied  his  licks;  the  play  was  by  a  man 
who  chose  to  call  himself  "The  Elephant;" 
it  had  been  read  by  *  *  several  of  our  leading 
dramatists  and  pronounced  a  masterpiece 
of  originality,  character,  and  strength." 
But  to  me  the  faith  of  Manager  Maffet  did 
not  hold  the  piece  above  an  ordinary  ex 
periment,  a  truth  set  forth  by  the  meager- 
ness  of  his  "  paper;"  and,  as  nothing  was 
said  of  the  cast,  I  knew  that  my  lines  were 
not  to  be  given  over  to  well-known  "peo- 
pie." 

Would  the  day,  which  had  sounded  so 
near,  never  come!  "Who  are  you?"  a 
snail  inquired  of  a  wild  pigeon.  '  *  I  am 


MAGNOLIA  LAND.  283 

Time,"  the  pigeon  answered.  "No,"  said 
the  snail.  ' '  You  may  have  been  Time  and 
you  may  be  again,  some  day,  but  /  am 
Time  now." 

In  the  evening  I  drove  a  drunken  man  to 
his  home,  four  miles  on  the  North  Side,  and 
when  I  helped  him  out  in  front  of  his  door, 
he  tried  to  hold  me,  to  tell  me  that  I  was  his 
friend,  but  I  broke  loose  from  him,  and 
almost  furiously  I  drove  to  the  theatre.  I 
had  not  time  to  go  to  the  stable;  I  hired  a 
boy  to  look  after  my  horse,  and  hastened  to 
buy  a  balcony  ticket.  The  night  was  warm 
for  the  time  of  the  year,  but  a  threat  of 
rain  was  in  the  air,  and  I  was  afraid  that 
the  house  would  be  small,  but  the  people 
kept  sprinkling  in,  and  I  stood  in  a  corner 
to  watch  them,  uneasy  and  annoyed  when 
ever  anyone  passed  along,  without  even 
looking  in  toward  the  box  office.  The 
orchestra  began  with  Dixie,  and  my  blood 
tingled  as  I  went  up  the  stairs.  Viewed 
from  my  seat,  the  lower  part  of  the  house 
appeared  to  be  well  filled  and  the  balcony 


284  BOLANYO. 

was  crowded.  I  had  not  taken  account  of 
those  who  had  gone  in  before  I  arrived.  No 
program  had  been  given  to  me  and  I  was 
almost  afraid  to  ask  for  one.  I  did  not  per 
mit  myself  to  speculate  upon  my  misfortune, 
an  outcast  sneaking  in  to  see  his  own  play; 
I  did  not  muse  upon  fate;  I  sat  there  with 
my  pulse  beating  fast.  But  I  did  indulge  the 
comfort  of  the  thought  that  should  the  play 
prove  a  failure  no  one  could  discover  the 
humiliation  of  the  author. 

The  music  ceased,  the  curtain  went  up, 
my  heart  leaped,  and  the  soft  beauty  of  the 
scene  brought  tears  to  my  eyes.  Could  I 
believe  it,  there  were  Culpepper  and  Miss 
Hatch,  their  mouths  full  of  "The  Ele 
phant's"  words.  A  droll  line,  and  the  peo 
ple  laughed;  a  sentiment,  and  they  ap 
plauded.  So  the  ice  was  broken.  The 
curtain  went  down  with  generous  applause. 
Culpepper  and  Miss  Hatch  were  called  out; 
but  I  could  hardly  see  them,  for  the  foolish 
tears  in  my  eyes.  I  knew  that  the  acts  to 
come  were  better  and  my  heart  swelled  with 


MAGNOLIA  LAND.  285 

the  thought.  There  were  many  faults,  of 
course,  but  good  humor  and  enthusiasm 
do  not  hunt  for  flaws,  and  I  laughed  and 
cried  and  yearned  to  grasp  the  hand  of  a 
friend. 

"What  do  you  think  of  it?"  I  asked  of 
a  rough  man  who  sat  beside  me. 

"Great,"  he  answered. 

"Would  you  mind  shaking  hands  with 
me?" 

4  *  I  don't  know  you, "  he  replied,  ' '  but  I'm 
a  good  ways  from  home,  and  we'll  call  it  a 
go.  Put  her  there." 

He  thrust  forth  his  hand.  I  grasped  it 
and  pressed  it  hard — the  first  I  had  touched 
in  sentiment  for  many  a  day;  and  I  was 
loth  to  let  it  go,  but  he  was  forbearing. 
"Shake  again  whenever  you  want  to,"  he 
said.  "A  man  that  cries  at  a  putty  thing 
ain't  a  bad  feller." 

At  the  end  of  the  third  act  there  was  a 
roar  for  the  author,  and  at  that  moment  I 
felt  almost  willing  to  risk  my  neck  to  thank 
those  generous  hearts. 


286  BOLANYO. 

It  was  over — and  the  great  organ  lifted  its 
voice  in  triumph  as  the  audience  arose.  But 
if  I  strode  out  with  the  tread  of  a  conqueror, 
it  was  not  unmixed  with  a  sorrowful  limp, 
the  halting  walk  of  one  who  sees  the  black 
word  "bitterness"  written  upon  the  bright 
banner  of  his  victory.  A  cold  rain  was 
falling.  I  stood  against  the  wall  to  catch 
the  echo  of  my  achievement,  the  "good," 
"enjoyed  it  so  much,"  "beautiful,"  of 
the  hastening  throng.  The  loud  cab-calls 
ceased,  and  I  stepped  forward  to  drive  my 
vehicle  to  the  stable,  when,  glancing  back, 
I  saw  something  that  almost  wrung  a  cry 
from  my  heart.  Beneath  the  awning  stood 
the  Senator  and  his  daughter.  I  ran  to  my 
cab,  threw  money  to  the  boy,  seized  the 
horse  by  the  bridle,  led  him  to  the  curb  in 
front  of  the  Senator,  and  bowing  under  the 
glistening  drip  I  said,  "Cab,  Sir?" 

"Yes,"  I  think  so,"  he  replied.  "We 
haven't  far  to  go,  just  around  yonder  to  the 
Great  Northern  Hotel.  Let  me  help  you 
in,  Florence.  I  reckon  they  are  right  in 


MAGNOLIA  LAND.  287 

saying  that  this  place  has  about  the  worst 
climate  in  the  world." 

I  held  the  door  open  until  they  were 
seated,  and  stood  there  in  a  tremble  after  I 
had  closed  it,  yearning  to  make  myself 
known  to  them.  But  the  success  of  the 
play  could  not  mean  that  I  was  innocent  of 
an  old  man's  death.  They  might  never 
have  believed  me  guilty.  '  'I  could  throw 
myself  upon  their  mercy,"  I  mused.  "But 
what  if  they  should  turn  away  with  a  cold 
word  and  a  shudder?"  Reason  is  the  off 
spring  of  wisdom,  but  it  has  always  been  a 
coward. 

"  What  are  you  waiting  for?  "  the  Sena 
tor  inquired,  with  a  tap  on  the  window. 
"  Drive  on,  please." 

I  mounted,  not  trusting  myself  to  speak, 
and  drove  slowly  away,  with  my  eager  ear 
bent  low. 

"Never  saw  anything  like  that  play," 
said  the  Senator,  "never  did.  But  I  tell 
you  I  was  scared  at  first.  Why,  when  that 
fellow  Bugg  Peters  came  out  there  I  thought 


288  BOLANYO. 

surely  he  would  ruin  the  whole  thing.  And 
he  was  Bugg,  up  and  up.  Yes,  thought  he 
would  spoil  it  all.  Why,  Florence,  that 
fellow  is  the  biggest  liar  on  the  earth!" 

i  <  But  he  is  art,  as  we  saw  him  to-night, 
Father." 

' '  Well,  yes.  He  said  the  very  things  that 
Bugg  would  have  said.  Yes,  art  all  right 
enough,  but  whenever  he  zs,  art  has  turned 
out  to  be  a  monstrous  liar.  It  does  seem 
to  me,  however,  that  Bolanyo  could  have 
furnished  a  batch  of  more  respectable  char 
acters — more  representative,  don't  you  un 
derstand — people  of  better  standing.  Wash 
ington  is  all  right,  an  advancement,  a  high 
type  of  his  race,  but  the  pilot  and  the  shoe 
maker  are — oh,  well,  they  don't  represent 
us.  And  that  old  woman's  meant  for  your 
Aunt  Patsey  as  sure  as  you  live.  But  in 
spite  of  these  minor  faults  it  is  a  beautiful 
play." 

"I  wonder,"  she  said,  after  a  moment  of 
silence,  ' '  I  wonder  where  Mr.  Belford  is 


MAGNOLIA  LAND.  289 

to-night;  if  he  could  only  have  seen  his  vic 
tory;  if—" 

4 'Say,  there,  driver,"  the  Senator  cried, 
"why  don't  you  go  ahead?  What  do  you 
want  to  halt  along  here  for?  I  don't  want 
to  hurt  your  feelings,  you  understand,  but  I 
could  have  more  than  walked  there  by  this 
time.  Drive  up,  please." 

We  were  now  near  the  hotel.  I  drew  up 
at  the  curb,  jumped  down  and  opened  the 
cab  door.  The  Senator  got  out.  I  did  not 
look  at  him.  I  did  not  dare  to  feed  my  hun 
gry  eyes  upon  her  face.  He  took  her  hand, 
and  when  she  had  stepped  upon  the  pave 
ment,  she  turned  about.  "  Oh,  wait  a  mo 
ment,  "  she  said,  ' '  my  dress  is  caught.  No, 
it  isn't." 

"  I  will  settle  with  you  in  a  moment,"  he 
remarked,  looking  back  at  me,  as  with  haste, 
though  with  most  gallant  gentleness,  he 
urged  his  daughter  toward  the  door,  out  of 
the  rain.  I  looked  hard  at  her  now,  with 
my  heart  full  of  another  night,  when  she  had 
glanced  back  at  me;  I  waited,  gazing,  en- 
19 


2QO  BOLANYO. 

chained  by  her  grace,  until  she  reached  the 
door,  and  then  I  sprung  upon  the  cab  and 
drove  away.  The  Senator  shouted,  but  I 
did  not  look  around,  until,  turning  a  corner, 
I  glanced  back,  to  see  him  standing  bare 
headed  in  the  rain,  waving  his  hat  at  me. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

DOWN    A    DARK    ALLEY. 

SHE  had  wondered  where  I  was,  and 
the  soft  echo  of  her  sympathy  rilled 
my  heart  with  a  psalm.      Surely  she 
could  not  have  suspected  me  of  Es- 
tell's  blood.      But   the    Senator  —  why  did 
he  break  in  as  if   impatient  of    my  name? 
Had  he  grown  weary  with  hearing  it?    But 
his  interruption,  it  was  not  hard  to  believe, 
was  more  of  a  sorrow  than  an  impatience. 
I  was  near  the  stable  now,  but  I  stopped 
the  horse,  almost  of  a  mind  to  turn  back, 
to  touch  her  hand,  even  if  compelled  to  run 
away  to  hide  again  in  fear  and  shame.      I 
glanced  down  at  my  mean  garb,  I  thought  of 
the  fierce  aspect  of  my  beard-gnarled  face, 
and  pride,  not  fear,  forced  me  to  hesitate. 
4 'But  I  will  go  early  in  the  morning,"   I 
291 


292  BOLANYO. 

mused,  as  I  drove  on,  still  debating,  the  horse 
slow  under  the  restraint  of  my  sullenness. 
"  I  will  shave  my  face  and — " 

A  man  stepped  out  from  the  shadow  into 
the  light  and  raised  his  hand — the  man  who 
had  put  me  in  a  tremor  of  fear.  '  *  I  want 
to  see  you  a  moment,"  he  said. 

I  was  near  the  sidewalk,  at  the  mouth  of 
an  alley,  and  without  a  moment  of  specu 
lation  as  to  what  the  fellow  might  mean 
I  leaped  from  the  cab  and  darted  into  the 
alley.  He  raised  a  cry  and  I  heard  another 
noise,  a  pistol  shot,  perhaps.  I  plunged 
through  an  opening  and  scrambled  over  a 
great  pile  of  scrap-iron;  I  tore  open  a  frail 
gate  and  came  out  upon  a  street.  People 
were  passing,  but  they  paid  but  little  at 
tention  to  me.  I  crossed  the  street,  entered 
another  alley,  made  as  quick  time  as  I  could, 
and  came  out  near  the  river. 

All  through  the  night  I  hastened  onward, 
sometimes  on  a  railway  track  and  often  in 
the  mud  of  the  prairie.  My  running  away 
might  have  been  foolish;  the  man  might 


DOWN  A  DARK  ALLEY.  293 

simply  have  wanted  to  make  an  inquiry. 
And,  indeed,  if  he  had  settled  upon  me  why 
had  he  waited  so  long?  It  was  easy  enough 
to  reason,  but  reason  when  slower  than 
action  is  a  miserable  cripple.  I  had  money 
enough  to  pay  my  way  out  West,  but  caution 
dictated  a  fear  of  open  travel,  so  I  was  re 
solved  to  walk  in  lonely  places  until  I  felt 
that  to  trust  a  railway  train  would  be  less 
of  a  risk.  The  rain  increased  with  the  com 
ing  of  daylight,  and  I  was  driven  to  seek 
the  shelter  of  a  barn.  A  man  came  out  to 
milk  the  cows. 

1 '  I  have  invited  myself  in  out  of  the  rain, " 
said  I,  as  he  gave  me  a  suspicious  look. 

''All  right.  A  man  ought  to  have  sense 
enough  to  come  in  out  of  the  rain.  Which 
way  are  you  traveling?" 

"Looking  for  work,"  I  answered. 

"Well,  you  ought  to  be  able  to  find  it. 
But  most  men  hunting  for  work  these  days 
put  me  in  mind  of  a  horse  goin'  along  the 
road  lookin'  for  somethin'  to  get  scared  at. 
A  feller  came  along  yesterday  and  said  he 


294  BOLANYO. 

was  hungry;  but  when  I  showed  him  some 
work  I  wanted  done  he  skulked  off.  Are 
you  hungry  enough  to  help  build  a  fence?" 

'  *  No,  but  I'm  hungry  enough  to  pay  for 
something  to  eat. " 

"  Oh,  well,  then,  I  guess  you're  all  right. 
Just  go  on  to  the  house  and  make  yourself 
to  home." 

I  went  to  the  house ;  and  while  sitting  by 
the  fire,  the  wind  high  and  the  rain  lashing 
at  the  window,  I  formed  the  resolve  to  go 
back  to  Bolanyo.  I  would  surrender  my 
self  to  the  authorities,  to  claim  the  right  of 
trial  by  jury  and  to  accept  the  result.  And 
reason  was  not  now  a  coward,  a  cripple, 
but  more  like  a  man,  cool,  bold  and  strong. 
I  reviewed  with  pity  the  morbid  fear  that 
held  me  back  from  Maffet;  I  felt  now  that 
in  safety  I  could  have  made  myself  known 
to  him.  The  Senator  had  come  to  look 
after  my  interest,  and  surely  he  would  not 
have  frowned  upon  me.  Yes,  I  would  go 
back  to  Bolanyo.  I  was  sick  of  the  rab- 
bitlike  freedom  of  an  outlaw. 


DO  WN  A  DARK  ALLE  Y.  295 

"How  far  is  it  to  the  railway  station?" 
I  inquired  of  the  farmer. 

"Well,"  he  drawled,  "I  don't  know  for 
certain." 

I  knew  that  it  was  not  in  his  Yankee  na 
ture  to  give  me  a  direct  answer,  so  I 
waited. 

"There's  a  milk  station  a  little  nearer 
than  the  other  one.  Want  to  get  on  the 
train?" 

"Oh,  no,  I  want  to  go  over  to  the  sta 
tion  to  see  how  it  looks  in  the  rain." 

"Which,  the  milk  station  or  the  other 
one?  Ain't  much  to  see  over  there,  but  the 
land's  worth  all  of  a  hundred  dollars  an  acre. 
But  when  we  came  out  here  from  Connect 
icut  it  could  have  been  bought  for  a  song 
and  they  wouldn't  have  insisted  on  your 
carryin'  the  tune  so  mighty  well.  If  you 
want  to  go  jest  to  look,  the  milk  station  is 
as  good  as  any  and  a  good  deal  better  than 
some;  but  if  you  want  to  get  on  the  ex 
press  train  you'd  better  go  to  the  other  one." 

"How  far  is  it?" 


296  BOLANYO. 

"  Which,  the  other  one?" 

11  Yes,  the  other  one.     How  far  is  it?" 

"  Well,  if  you  walk,  it's—" 

"I  don't  want  to  walk;  I  want  you  to 
drive  me." 

1  'Oh,  well,  if  that's  the  case  I  guess  we 
can  fix  it.  I'll  drive  you  over  for  half  a 
dollar.  The  train  will  be  along  about  dark 
or  a  little  after.  You've  got  plenty  of 
time." 

"Have  you  a  razor?" 

4 '  I  guess  I  had  the  best  razor  you  ever 
saw,  but  the  woman  (he  meant  his  wife) 
took  it  one  day  and  raked  all  the  edge  off 
it.  But  I've  got  another  one,  a  rattler." 

"Would  you  mind  my  shaving  with  it?" 

"Well,  do  you  shave  left-handed  or 
right-handed?" 

"Right-handed." 

"That's  what  I  was  afraid  of.  I  shave 
left-handed,  and  if  you  change  after  the 
razor  is  set,  why,  it  rather  warps  it,  so  to 
speak.  Neighbor  of  mine  had  a  razor  ruined 
that  way.  It  might  not  ruin  mine,  but  I'm 


DOWN  A  DARK  ALLEY.  297 

inclined  to  believe  it  would  suffer  about  ten 
cents'  worth." 

"All  right,  I'll  stand  the  damage.  You 
grab  after  every  penny  in  sight,  I  see." 

"Well,  I  hadn't  thought  of  that,  but  now 
that  you  put  me  in  mind  of  it,  I  guess  I 
will.  And  why  not?  Wheat  down,  can't 
give  oats  away,  and  hogs  a-squealin'  be 
cause  they  ain't  worth  nothin'.  Every 
body's  got  his  teeth  on  edge  agin  the  farmer, 
and  if  he  don't  grab  at  every  penny  in  sight 
they'll  have  to  lift  him  into  a  wagon  and 
haul  him  to  the  poorhouse.  I'll  get  the 
razor." 

I  heard  him  fussing  about  in  an  adjoining 
room,  with  a  complaint,  directed  at  his  wife, 
that  nothing  could  ever  be  found  on  the 
place,  and  presently  he  returned  with  the 
razor,  a  strop,  a  bar  of  soap  and  a  dish  of 
hot  water.  I  looked  at  his  bearded  face 
and  was  tickled  with  conquest  to  notice  his 
embarrassment.  It  was,  however,  but  a 
brief  season  of  defeat  for  him.  His  humor 
ous  shrewdness  flew  to  his  aid.  "I  guess," 


298  BOLANYO. 

said  he,  "that  my  beard  grows  faster  than 
anybody's  you  ever  saw.  I  shaved  not  long 
ago,  and  shaved  with  my  left  hand,  too — 
to  keep  my  razor  in  the  same  shape  and 
temper,  you  understand — but  my  beard 
grows  so  fast  that  I  don't  look  like  it.  One 
of  my  neighbors  tells  me  that  I  could  make 
money  growin'  hair  to  stuff  buggy  cushions 
with,  and  maybe  I  could,  but  I  never  tried 
it;  never  had  the  time,  somehow.  Now, 
just  hit  her  a  lick  or  two  on  that  strop  and 
you'll  be  all  right." 

"You  say  your  people  came  from  Con 
necticut?" 

"Yes,  Sir,  from  right  up  the  river." 

"Did  any  of  the  family  go  on  further 
South?" 

"I  think  so.  I  had  an  uncle,  younger 
a  good  deal  than  my  daddy.  He  went 
South,  married  there  and  died  in  the  war, 
on  the  rebel  side.  But  he  left  Connecticut 
long  before  I  was  born.  We  tried  to  look 
up  the  family  some  time  ago;  I  thought  we'd 
like  to  have  a  warm  place  to  go  sometime 


DOWN  A  DARK  ALLEY.  299 

in  the  winter;  and,  Sir,  I  got  a  letter  from 
my  cousin,  tellin'  me  to  come.  He  lives  in 
Mississippi — name's  Bugg  Peters.  Why, 
what  are  you  so  astonished  at,  Mister?  It's 
a  fact,  and  my  name's  Sam  Peters.  Well, 
I'll  go  out  and  hitch  up  the  horse  by  the 
time  you  get  shaved." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

CONCLUSION — IN   THE    GARDEN. 

THROUGH  the  dark  the  train  came 
with  a  stuttering  roar.  I  turned  to 
shake  hands  with  Peters,  but  he  had 
stepped  from  the  platform  to  hold 
his  horse. 

4 < Good-bye,"  he  shouted.  "This  horse 
has  seen  the  train  every  day  since  he  was 
born,  but  he'll  run  away  if  I  don't  hold  him. 
But  it  runs  in  his  family  to  be  afraid  of  the 
railroad.  His  brother  was  killed  by  a  train. 
Wish  you  well,  and  if  you  ever  come  this 
way  again,  stop  off." 

He  was  a  skinflint  and  a  rascal,  but  he 

had  shortened  a  dreary  day,  and  at  parting 

I  regretted  that  I  had  not  told  him  of  my 

acquaintance  with  his  kinsman  in  the  South. 

With   a   change  of   cars,   at   daylight,  I 

300 


CONCLUSION— IN   THE  GARDEN.         301 

could  reach  Memphis  late  in  the  afternoon, 
in  time  to  continue  my  journey  by  boat  to 
Bolanyo.  I  lay  back,  with  my  hat  pulled 
down  over  my  face,  and  strove  to  compose 
myself  to  sleep,  and  I  dozed,  but  awoke  at 
the  solemn  words  of  a  judge,  rumbling  with 
the  rythm  of  the  train.  Sometimes  I  ar 
gued  that  I  was  a  fool  to  trust  myself  to  the 
humor  of  an  excitable  people;  but  soon  I 
discovered  that  this  speculation  was  forced, 
that  my  mind  refused  to  treat  it  seriously, 
that  my  hope  stood,  not  at  the  bar,  under 
the  protection  of  the  law,  but  in  the  Sen 
ator's  garden.  And  from  this  height,  in  the 
redolent  air,  I  could  not  force  myself  down 
to  muse  upon  a  long  season  in  a  cell,  wait 
ing  for  the  court  to  convene. 

Daylight  came.  I  got  off  at  a  station,  to 
step  on  board  another  train.  I  counted  my 
money  and  found  that  I  might  have  enough, 
upon  reaching  Memphis,  to  buy  a  suit  of 
cheap  clothes.  But  the  most  strenuous  de 
nial  must  be  practiced;  I  could  not  afford 
food  nor  even  a  newspaper. 


302  BOLANYO. 

It  was  nearly  four  o'clock  when  the  train 
arrived  at  Memphis.  I  hastened  to  the 
landing  and  learned  that  a  boat  would  leave 
within  half  an  hour  and  that  fifty  cents 
would  secure  a  deck  passage  to  Bolanyo. 
I  was  fitted  out  by  a  riverside  clothier,  and, 
after  a  quick  "snack"  of  fish  on  a  house 
boat,  I  stepped  on  board  the  steamer  that 
had  brought  the  Senator  and  me  with  ' '  Mag 
nolia  Land"  up  the  river.  I  stood  at  the 
bow,  and  my  heart  leaped  at  the  sight  of 
the  first  green  tinge  in  the  woods.  How 
soft  and  delicious  was  the  atmosphere,  after 
the  raw  wind  of  the  prairies  and  the  lake. 
How  gently  the  sun  went  down,  without  a 
shiver,  without  a  breath  too  cool. 

I  saw  the  lights  of  Bolanyo.  And  I  felt 
about  for  something  to  touch — something 
to  brace  me  against  the  surging  of  an  over 
powering  emotion.  I  tried  to  picture  the 
jail;  I  strove  to  recall  the  yell  of  the  mob, 
the  awful  night,  the  tread  of  merciless  feet; 
but  I  saw  a  blossom  nodding  in  the  sweet 


CONCLUSION— IN  THE  GARDEN.         303 

air;  I  heard  a  voice  that  filled  my  soul  with 
trembling  melody. 

The  boat  touched  the  shore,  and  I  leaped 
upon  the  landing,  before  the  plank  could  be 
thrown  out.  And  now  a  caution  was  nec 
essary.  To  be  recognized  meant  a  night  in 
jail,  perhaps  another  mob,  and  it  was  my 
plan  to  go  by  lonely  ways  to  the  Senator's 
house  and  to  surrender  myself  to  him.  In 
my  haste  I  was  almost  breathless.  I  passed 
the  lonely  lamp-post  and  the  thicket;  I  stood 
at  the  gate.  I  opened  it  without  noise,  and, 
with  my  heart  bounding,  I  stole  up  the 
steps,  raised  the  door-knocker  and  let  it 
fall;  and  with  the  noise,  the  breaking  of  the 
metrical  throb  of  the  silence,  I  sprung  aside, 
almost  choking.  Someone  came  slowly 
down  the  hall  and  fumbled  at  the  lock. 
Would  the  door  ever  be  opened?  It  was, 
and  Washington  stood  before  me. 

"Ah!"  he   cried,  seizing  me  in  his  arms. 

"Come  right  in  yere,  Sah,  Lawd  bless 
yo'  life.  Let  me  hep  you.  Laws  er  massy, 


304  BOLANYO. 

de  man  kai  hardly  walk.  Yes,  Sah,  right 
yere  in  de  libery." 

He  lifted  me  in  his  mighty  arms,  carried 
me  into  the  library  and  eased  me  down  upon 
a  chair.  ' '  Now,  Sah — Sir — let  us  try  to  be 
cool;  let  us  be  strong  with  the  love  of  the 
Lord  in  our  hearts." 

He  snatched  up  a  hat  and  stood  over  me, 
fanning  my  face.  ' '  Yes,  let  us  thank  our 
heavenly  father." 

"  Where  are  they— she?"  I  asked. 

4 '  You  must  be  cool,  Mr.  Belford.  Your 
excitement  might — might  be  bad  for  you  all. 
The  Senator  is  out  somewhere  and  so  is 
Miss  Florence.  But  you  shall  see  them 
soon.  Just  quiet  yourself  down." 

' '  I  must  see  them — him  at  once,  to  sur 
render  myself. " 

"  Surrender  yourself?  What  for,  Mr. 
Belford?" 

'  *  Washington,  don't  force  me  to  say  it. 
You  know.  I  have  come  back  to  give  my 
self  up,  to  stand  my  trial." 

He  ceased  his  fanning,  stepped  back  and 


CONCLUSION— IN  THE  GARDEN.         305 

looked  at  me.  • '  Mr.  Belford,  haven't  you 
seen  the  papers?" 

* '  I  have  seen  nothing.  I  have  come  to 
give  myself  up." 

The  hat  fell  from  his  hand.  "  Mr.  Bel- 
ford,  you  must  prepare  yourself  to  hear 
something.  Let  me  be  slow  so  that  it  may 
not  excite  you. " 

' '  Out  with  it.     I  can  stand  anything. " 

4 'Yes,  Sir,  but  I  must  remember  my  fail 
ing,  my  father's  rude  tongue.  But  I  will 
try  to  tell  you  in  a  civilized  way.  Once  I 
told  you  of  a  woman'  I  loved — now  do  not 
be  impatient.  You  must  wait,  and  if  you 
are  not  cool  you  shall  not  see  anyone. 
The  husband  of  this  woman  was  a  sinner, 
and  his  wife  kept  urging  him  to  join  my 
church.  One  night  not  long  ago,  moved 
by  the  spirit,  I  talked  to  the  hearts  of  men, 
and  he  was  stricken  with  conviction.  And 
the  next  day  he  came  to  me.  He  said  that 
he  was  in  the  thicket  and  heard  a  pistol 
fire,  and  that  not  long  afterward  he  came 
upon  Estell's  body  with  a  pistol  lying  beside 

20 


306  BOLANYO. 

it.  He  looked  about.  No  one  was  in  sight. 
He  thrust  his  hand  into  the  dead  man's 
pocket  and  drew  out  a  pocketbook  and 
some  papers.  Then  he  took  up  the  pistol, 
but  was  afraid  to  touch  the  watch,  knowing 
that  it  would  be  death  to  be  found  with  it. 
Just  then  he  thought  he  heard  someone 
coming  and  he  ran  away,  with  the  pocket- 
book,  the  papers  and  the  pistol.  And  one 
of  the  papers  was  a  statement  written  by 
Estell.  He  confessed  that  he  had  engaged 
in  wild  speculations,  and  that  he  was  two 
hundred  thousand  dollars  short  in  his  ac 
count  with  the  State.  He  spoke  of  the  com 
mission  which  would  be  appointed  to  go 
through  his  books,  and  said  that  he  could 
not  face  the  disgrace — that  death  was  his 
only  recourse.  It  has  all  come  out  in  the 
newspapers,  and  the  men  who  would  have 
hanged  you  are  willing  now  to  make  the 
most  gracious  amends.  They  talk  about 
you  constantly,  and  they  come  every  day  to 
ask  if  we  have  had  any  news  of  you.  Why, 
yesterday  a  town  meeting  was  held  and  our 


CONCLUSION— IN  THE  GARDEN.         307 

ablest  speakers  blew  the  horn  of  your 
praise." 

"Where  is  she* "  I  demanded. 

"She  is  out  at  present.  Just  be  calm, 
and  when  the  time  comes  you  shall  see  her. 
The  Senator  went  North  to  see  the  play. 
She  went  with  him,  and  she  hasn't  been 
strong  since;  she  was  weak  enough  before. 
The  Senator  wrote  to  the  man  who  has  the 
play,  some  time  ago,  and  told  him  that  he 
would  be  held  severely  responsible  for  any 
mention  of  you  in  relation  to  the  murder  as 
it  was  then  thought.  And  the  editor?  He 
sent  a  retraction  to  his  paper;  he  acknowl 
edged  that  he  was  a  liar,  and  the  Senator 
has  let  him  come  back  to  settle  up  his  af 
fairs." 

"  Did  she — did  she  grieve?  " 

"Her  life  since  then  has  been  one  of 
deepest  grief,  Mr.  Belford,  but  not  for 
him.  And  she  sits  in  the  garden  every 
evening — waiting — and — and  she  is  there 
now,  Sir." 

I  leaped  from  the  chair;  I  ran  into  the 


3o8  BOLANYO. 

garden,  calling  her  name — not  Mrs.  Estell— 
but  ''Florence!  Florence!" 

"Oh,  who — who  is  calling  me?"  a  voice 
cried,  and  I  saw  her  clinging  to  a  tree  for 
support,  near  the  bench  where  we  had  often 
sat.  I  ran  to  her,  and  the  garden  lamp  light 
was  in  her  eyes  as  she  looked  at  me.  I  stood 
in  silence,  looking  at  her.  I  took  her  hand, 
and  in  silence  we  sat  down.  It  was  a  long 
time  before  we  spoke. 

1  'Oh,  that  awful  night!"  she  said,  with 
her  head  bent  low.  "  There  was  no  one  to 
help  you,  and  when  I  heard  the  bell  ring  I 
seized  a  knife  from  the  kitchen  and  threw  a 
shawl  over  my  head  and  ran  down  there  to 
stab  the  man  that  tied  the  rope.  I  knocked 
the  lantern  over  and  I  cut  the  cords — " 

Half  blind,  I  saw  my  tears  gleaming  in 
her  hair.  "And  when  you  stepped  out  of 
the  carriage  the  night  of  the  play  you 
thought  your  dress  was  caught.  It  was — I 
caught  it  to  kiss  it." 

"  Oh!  "  she  cried — and  that  was  all.  We 
sat  in  silence,  my  tears  gleaming  in  her  hair. 


CONCLUSION— IN   THE  GARDEN. 


309 


And  we  heard  a  voice  and  a  step  and  we 
stood  up.  The  Senator  came,  with  his  hand 
thrust  forth,  feeling  as  if  he  were  blind. 
And  on  my  shoulder  he  put  his  arm,  and  it 
was  heavy.  And  ' '  My — my  boy, "  was  all 
he  could  say — "  My  boy." 


THE    END. 


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CHICAGO,  FOR  WAY  A  WILLIAMS. 


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